


But You Stood By My Side

by WritingIsLoveAndLife



Category: The Fosters (TV 2013)
Genre: Angst, Family, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Non-Graphic Violence, Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-07-07
Updated: 2018-07-15
Packaged: 2018-11-28 19:25:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 42
Words: 84,061
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11424558
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/WritingIsLoveAndLife/pseuds/WritingIsLoveAndLife
Summary: Jude and Connor have been dating for 10 years when Connor proposes. Follow their lives from that moment on as they reminisce, plan a wedding (with a little interference from Mariana) and start a family!This was my first-even fan-fiction story and it was originally published on Fan Fiction.net, but I've decided to share it here as well.





	1. Prologue

**Author's Note:**

> AN: Hello, everyone! I’m WritingIsLoveAndLife and this is my very first fan fiction story. I've been writing for over 6 years now (I can't believe it's been that long) so I'm definitely a seasoned writer. I originally posted this story to Fan Fiction.net in February 2016 and it's amassed a very devoted following there, which amazes me even to this day. I have the most loyal readers in the world, and I'm so grateful to them for their support. This story wouldn't be half of what it is without my readers.
> 
> This is going to be a fan fic based on the Freeform/ABC Spark drama The Fosters, which is a show I’m obsessed with. I particularly love the coupling of Jude and Connor, so they are going to be the main focus. I know Jonnor is no longer cannon, but they were when I started writing this, and I intend to see this and all my other Jonnor-centric works through to the end. I'm always working on new chapters for existing stories, as well as many new and exciting stories.
> 
> The title is a lyric from the song “Loved Me Back to Life” by Céline Dion. It’s a fantastic song; so feel free to check it out, if you want.
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or characters. I claim absolutely no ownership of the series or characters. I merely respect the show, and wish to pay tribute while continuing to sharpen my writing skills.

I’ll never forget the day I met Jude Adams-Foster. I was thirteen, in the seventh grade and had lived in San Diego, California all my life. My entire world centered on sports, baseball in particular.

Until the day I met Jude. 

I was walking down the halls of Anchor Beach Charter School, when I unceremoniously bowled him over.

He was a timid kid with a bowl haircut. He seemed so lost (figuratively and literally) and all I remember is feeling as though I wanted to wrap him up in a hug and never let go.

But I didn’t do that. Every inch of my being cried out for me hug the boy, but back then, hell hath no fury like Adam Stevens. And boy did I know it. Behind the father of the year façade was one ruthless, terrifying man with very warped views of masculinity that he had hammered into me since birth. 

Even at thirteen, I knew my father was someone not to cross. So, I did the next best thing:

I hauled him to his feet, introduced myself and offered to show him around. He accepted my offer with a small smile, and, looking back, it was most likely at this point that Jude Adams-Foster (then Jacob) had me completely, irrevocably hooked. 

We soon became as close as it was for platonic male friends to become. It all started with the nail polish (or “war paint” as we’ve taken to calling it). He wore it to school and got shoved around by vicious bullies.  
I went out that night and bought the same midnight blue hue he had on. I wore it the next day in a show of solidarity. It was then that we truly became friends.

Next, we did a project together. It was then that I learned a little bit more about his past, and ended the evening by giving him my 200-dollar handheld gaming console.

After that, it seemingly all went to hell. 

I took him to the batting cages where my father saw him pat me on the back and assumed him to be gay. Then, there was his whole anti-label, “I don’t want to be anybody’s secret” rant. Then, I lied to him, telling him I stood up to my father when, really, I had only snuck out. We ended up playing spin-the-bottle that night. One near-kiss and one angry Adam Stevens later, and our relationship was more frayed than ever, setting the stage for our seventh grade camping trip and one incident in a tent that would change everything.

A make-up, and some mixed messages during a double date at the movies and a sleepover led to another kiss, in the bedroom he shared with his adoptive brother Jesus.

But it wasn’t until I got a bullet to the foot that everything both fell apart and came together. 

I came out as gay to my dad (something he had previously termed as “his worst nightmare”), broke up with my girlfriend Daria (who moved shortly after), came out to Jude (who responded by doing one of the single bravest things he ever could do for me) and started dating him.

We’ve been together ever since, my stint in Los Angeles be damned. And, looking back after 10 years, I would not change anything. 

It wasn’t easy, but I am where I find myself today because of it.

 

I find myself 23, sitting at a table at the most expensive restaurant in San Diego with the love of my life, a velvet box tucked into the inside pocket of my suit jacket that grows heavier as the minutes pass.

As usual, it’s Jude who snaps me from my reverie.

“Earth to Connor!” he exclaims, waving a hand in front of my face. “Are you okay? You looked a million miles away there for a second.”

“Yeah, babe,” I respond, just a tad too quickly. “I’m fine. Just thinking about your surprise is all.”

Jude scowls. “What do you up to Connor Stevens?” he asks. “You know I hate surprises.”

“Well, you’ll like this one, I promise!” I assure him, reaching over to place my hand over his. 

He grunts, and goes back to his pasta dish, twirling the last of it around his fork and bringing it to his mouth, before swallowing it with the remainder of his glass of chardonnay. 

He waits for me to finish the rest of my meal before we get the bill and I lead him out of the restaurant into the mild San Diego evening.

“Let’s take a walk,” I suggest to him, my heart hammering in my chest. 

“Sure,” he agrees, taking off his suit jacket and folding it over his arm, before offering me his hand.

And so, we snake our way through San Diego until we reach a place both he and I know very well: Anchor Beach.

Jude gives me a half-hearted glare. “Connor…” he says, in mock warning.

I place a finger to his lips. “Shush, Jude! Just a little further until your surprise.”

He sighs, and allows me to drag him through our old school to the beach, where a familiar tune starts to play: Matt Alber’s cover of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me)”

‘The clock strikes upon the hour, and the sun begins to fade…’

“You want to dance?” I ask him, offering him my hand.

He takes it. “I’d love to.”

We dance through the song, my hand on his back holding him close, and his head on my shoulder.

“I love you, Jude,” I whisper to him as the song fades.

He pulls back to look at me. “And I love you, Connor,” he tells me. “But do you mind telling me why we’re here now?”

“So impatient!” I scoff. “I can show you better than I could tell you.”

I take a deep breath, kneel and pull the velvet box out of its place in my jacket.

He laughs, trying to keep the tears from spilling over. I smile at him.

“Jude,” I begin. “It’s hard to believe that we’ve been dating for 10 years. I still remember the first time I saw you. I knew you were special. And you are, you truly are. We’ve been through so much in this past decade, faced many obstacles that have threatened to derail us. But you stood by my side through everything. I want to ensure that you stay by my side for the rest of our lives. So, Jude Jacob Adams-Foster, will you do me the great honor of being my husband?”

I open the ring box.

A tear slides down his cheek, and he wipes it away. When he speaks, it’s only one word, spoken softly, but with an undeniable firmness: “Yes.”


	2. Chapter 1

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The morning after the proposal...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, I know I said I was going to post once daily, but I did get bored and so I decided to post some more chapters of this story! I hope you enjoy this next part of the story, and that you've been enjoying the story as a whole, thus far. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills.

As the sun persists in rising, letting annoying streams of light in through the window, I groan and rub the fatigue from my eyes, before stretching my limbs.

My gaze falls on my fiancé. Fiancé. God that’s going to take some getting used to, calling him that.

I lean forward and kiss him awake, watching his eyes flutter open before he fixes me with a gaze that sends butterflies rushing to my stomach. “Good morning, my lovely fiancé” I say to him.

He pulls me down for another kiss. “Morning, babe,” he responds. “Sleep well?”

“I always sleep well with you next to me,” I tell him, as if it were the most obvious thing in the world. In fact, it should be. We were dating for 10 years prior to last night, and living together for the last 4 of those years. I always fell asleep with him spooning me.

“I’m glad,” he responds, as he pulls himself upright, and begins to stretch. “Do we have to get up, or can we just stay in bed all day?” he asks me.

“As tempting as that offer is, Connor, I now have a ring on my finger and one very large family that we have to tell about that.”

Aw,” he whines, pouting. “C’mon, Jude. Please?”

I silence his whining with another kiss. “Nope,” I tell him, popping the p. “As much as I would love nothing more than a quite day in bed with my fiancé, we both know how Moms feel about us missing a family dinner, and I don’t think either of us want to deal with the consequences Mariana would inflict upon us for not telling her about our engagement.”

He shivers. As close as I am to my adoptive sister, and as close as she and Connor have gotten over the last 10 years, she still is feisty enough to be more than a little intimidating to the both of us. “Point taken,” he concedes, sighing in defeat. 

“Good boy,” I say teasingly, giving him one more peck. “I knew you got smarter with age.”

“Hey!” he says, mock-hurt seeping into his tone, as he reaches for me.

I dance out of his reach, and stand up, laughing all the while. “I’m going to make breakfast. You want anything?”

“Can I help?” Connor asks excitedly. “Please, please, please?” he adds for good measure.

“No,” I say, firmly, letting out a chuckle as my total dork of a fiancé (who happens to be completely inept in the kitchen, might I add) crosses his arms and pouts again, very much looking like a petulant child.   
“Nope,” I say firmly. “Any other task and you know I would cave, but I really don’t want to burn our apartment to the ground.”

He uncrosses his arms and sighs. “Okay,” he concedes. “Just make me some pancakes and some coffee, please.”

“Sure thing!” I nod, throwing a t-shirt over my head and padding down to our small kitchen.

As I cook, I hear the television come to life, ESPN roaring out of our surround sound system as Connor watches the latest in sports news. 

10 minutes later, I call him for breakfast, placing a large stack of plated pancakes and a steaming mug of coffee on the breakfast nook, which is as close to a kitchen table as we have in our 1200 sq ft. apartment. 

He comes in, hair tousled, still shirtless; giving me an ample view of his six pack. It goes without saying that my gaze lingers slightly too long, causing a knowing smirk to cross his features.

“Like what you see?” he asks teasingly, flexing his arms briefly before proceeding to pick up his cutlery.

I walk around the counter, wrapping my arms around his middle and resting my head on his shoulder, before kissing his neck. “You know I do,” I say. “Damn tease.”

He laughs. “I have to keep your attention somehow. I mean, I do have a lot of competition in that department.”

I frown, and force his chin up until he is looking dead into my eyes. “Connor Stevens,” I scold, somewhat surprised that even after 10 years, he can still get insecure. “You have no competition in any department, at any time, do you understand me?”

He nods, pecks me on the lips, and goes back to his food. I disentangle myself from him, and go to make my way back around the counter to fix my own plate and mug, before joining him again.

We sit in easy, companionable silence as we finish the meal, the sounds of ESPN still on in the background.

‘God,’ I think to myself. ‘What is my life? It seems like it was just yesterday that Callie rescued me from our last foster home with Brandon. Now, I get to call the greatest man on the face of the Earth my fiancé, and wake up every morning feeling so safe and loved.’

It’s at this point that I remember something my late biological mother Colleen always used to say to me when I was little.

*Flashback*

Thunder roars violently, interspersed with a large amount of cursing, shattering glass and pounding on a locked door.

“Colleen!” a call rings out through the house, followed by more pounding on the door. “I know you’re in there!” it continues threateningly, causing a young Jude and Callie to cower fearfully into their mother’s embrace.

“Go away, Donald!” Colleen says, hugging her children to her chest.

A door slams, the impact reverberating throughout the house. The house goes silent. The three remain huddled together, hearing the squeal of tires on pavement as a car speeds away.

“Mommy,” Jude says tremulously. “Why is daddy so mean?”

Colleen is paralyzed for a moment, figuring the best way to explain her husband’s behavior to a 5-year-old Jude and a 7-year-old Callie, who are looking at her expectantly.

“Well,” she begins. “Sometimes, a mommy and a daddy argue. And when they argue, things are often said or done in the heat of the moment, things that they may not mean to say or that they may not mean to do. Tonight, daddy did and said things in the heat of the moment. That doesn’t excuse them at all, but unfortunately, that’s sometimes what happens.”

Callie and Jude look satisfied with her answer, and Colleen exhales a breath she wasn’t aware she was holding, before addressing her children again.

“Listen, loves,” she tells them, and suddenly their attention is on her again. “As long as I’m here, I promise you that nothing bad will happen to either of you. Mommy will always protect you. If ever you forget everything else I tell you remember this: Good things come to those who wait. We just have to wait, and everything will work out.”

Colleen presses kisses to her kid’s foreheads and holds them tightly. She begins to sing a soothing lullaby, and soon, both Callie and Jude fall asleep.

*End Flashback*

“Hey, Jude!” Connor asks me worriedly. “Are you okay, babe?”

I come back to myself. “Yeah, babe,” I reassure him. “I’m okay. I was just thinking about my life back then, compared to now, and it triggered a memory of something my mom used to say to Callie and I when we were younger and my dad was drunk.”

“Oh,” he says, forehead creasing in concern, as he holds me tightly. “Are you sure you’re okay?”

“I’m sure,” I nod. “Thank you, though.”

He doesn’t look convinced, but lets it go, pressing a kiss into my hair and continuing to hold me close.

I’m not conscious of how long we spend like this, but it must be longer than either of us expected. We snap out of our combined reverie to the chime of a next text message to both of us.

I grab my cell phone from its place on the near end of the breakfast nook, and peer at the message:

Hi, loves. Just sending this as a reminder that there will be absolutely NO skipping out on the family dinner tonight. You two owe everyone for skipping out last week. We know you’re busy, what with Jude being a top social worker, and Connor being some hotshot baseball executive, but family should always come first. To make sure that you don’t skip out on us again, we’re sending Mariana. We all know how much you two secretly fear her. She should be arriving right… about… now.

A knock sounds at the door, and Connor and I groan as the voice on the other side of the door practically screams loud enough to wake the whole building. “Judicorn! Connor! Open up! I know you’re in there!”

“Speak of the devil,” Connor moans. “Looks like we won’t have to wait too long to tell her about you know what.”

“Yep,” I reply, pushing the chair out from the breakfast nook and standing on disagreeing legs before making my way to the door, Connor trailing behind me.

I open it, and am immediately engulfed in a hug. 

“Judicorn!” she squeaks excitedly, throwing herself at me.

“Hey, Mari!” I manage to choke out as she just about squeezes me to death.

I shoot Connor a pleading look, and he swoops into action, prying Mariana off of me. He barely has her off of me before she launches herself at him.

After catching my breath, I decide to take pity on my fiancé who is turning a dangerous shade of purple. I take a deep breath and exhale. “Okay, Mari,” I say. “Enough of the hugs. I’d like my fiancé to actually be alive on our wedding day.”

Mariana freezes, still holding onto Connor. He looks down at her worriedly. “Earth to Mariana,” he asks. “Are you still of this world?”

She snaps out of her shock, and turns to face me, spying the ring glistening on my finger. “You were… serious?”

“Yes, Mari,” I tell her. “As if the ring on my finger wasn’t enough of a giveaway. I’m surprised it took me actually voicing the fact I was engaged for you to figure it out. You’re usually pretty good with that stuff.”

She covers her mouth with her hand, looking like she is on the verge of tears before she rushes forward and takes my hand in a vice grip. “You, my dear Judicorn, are going to tell me absolutely everything!” she declares, dragging me helplessly into the living room.

I send another desperate look to Connor, who merely shakes his head with a knowing smile.

That smile gets wiped off his face quickly as Mariana speaks her next words. “Connor! You get your ass in here too! You have more explaining to do than my darling little brother!”

I can hear Connor gulp behind us, as he heeds Mariana’s request. I notice he has gone chalk white, but whether from fear or worry (or maybe both) I can’t quite tell.

I shoot him a look that just screams ‘Where’s that knowing smile now, big shot?’

He huffs, sits down next to me on the couch and twines our fingers together. “You’re so lucky I love you,” he says, kissing me sweetly, causing Mariana to squeal again.

We lock eyes once we part before returning our attention to my sister.

“So?” I ask her. “Where would you like to start?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It's so far been very interesting to go back into this story from the beginning and see how everything started. The first few chapters are very much setting up for the rest of the story, laying the groundwork and such. I really was just finding my voice in terms of writing these characters, but things will definitely be picking up very soon! If any of you have read this story on Fan Fiction.net, you'll know exactly what I'm talking about!
> 
> For those who are just discovering this story for the first time, you'll find out soon enough! Thanks for giving this story a chance and I hope you continue to enjoy the ride!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	3. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mariana spills the beans about Jude and Connor's engagement to the rest of the Adams-Foster siblings. Meanwhile, Jude and Connor get a sudden (yet wholeheartedly welcome) new addition to the family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is the chapter where the story truly begins to pick up! I hope that everyone enjoys it!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and want to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills.

After Jude spilled every little detail of my proposal to Mariana, she hastened from our apartment after extracting a verbal promise from the two of us to attend the weekly family dinner come hell or high water. We told her she could stay but she declined, saying she would go to allow us to, and I quote, “celebrate our engagement,” which caused both Jude and I to blush furiously.

As the door closes behind her, we both exhale in relief. We just got caught in the eye of Hurricane Mariana, and survived. Few others could claim they’ve been as fortunate.

I sigh and fall back into the comfortable leather of our couch, allowing it to swallow me in its depths. Jude takes a seat next to me.

“So,” he sighs. “That went much better than I expected it to.”

“I still think she went a little overboard,” I tell him. “But hey, at least we don’t have to pay for a wedding planner…”

“True enough,” he concedes. “How much you want to bet she’s going to go running off and telling everyone in the entire city that her baby brother is engaged? Callie will probably have my head, I don’t even want to think about the ribbing from Zeus and Brandon, and don’t even get me started on Moms…” he trails off with a groan. 

“Oh, I wouldn’t worry too much about your moms, babe,” I tell him. “Or your dad, for that matter.”

“Why?” he asks, suddenly extremely alert and suspicious. “What did you do?”

“I may have gathered your Moms and Donald and asked for their permission to propose to you,” I admit.

I’m taken aback when he starts laughing. “Very proper, babe,” he tells me in between chuckles. “And here I thought you’d just ask and drive me to the airport to board a red-eye to Las Vegas.”

“I do have a decent sense of self-preservation,” I retort. “And as much as I can’t wait to call you my husband, I knew that if I ever even consider eloping in Vegas, your family would have my head for it.”

“Right you are!” he agrees, as he wraps his arms around my midsection. I lie back on the couch, taking his body with me.

We stay like this, all cuddled up, until Jude gets another series of texts. I whine when he takes his arms out from around my waist, and he laughs.

Once he returns to the couch, I perch my head on his shoulder as he reads the messages:

Callie: Congratulations on your engagement, Jude (and Connor, of course!). You probably wanted to keep it a surprise, but the entire family knows Mariana can’t keep a secret that juicy for the life of her. Ha, ha! Anyways, I have a meeting that I have to get to. I’ll see you both tonight. xx Callie

Brandon: Hi Jude and Connor. Sorry to be so far away from San Diego, especially tonight. Congratulations on your engagement. Unlike Mariana, I won’t ask for every little detail, but a picture of the ring would be nice. I can’t believe my younger brother is getting married before I am. And, by the way, if you think I decided to go easy on the teasing, you’re wrong. I’m just about to head in to rehearsal for the day, so it will just have to wait. If it’s any consolation, Jesus will probably be worse than I am, but that probably doesn’t make you feel any better. Anyways, I send my love from New York!

Jesus: I knew it was only a matter of time! You two are the most lovesick couple I’ve ever seen! You literally blind me on a weekly basis with your affection for each other! Anyways, congrats to you both, I’ll see you tonight at dinner! 

“Well,” he says with a sigh, throwing his phone on the coffee table. “That was definitely not as bad as I expected it to be.

We barely have time to get back into a comfortable position when Jude’s phone blares, signaling an incoming call. He snaps up instantly, and looks at the caller ID.

“Damn it,” he says, turning to me. “Sorry, babe. I have to take this.”

I nod my consent, and he picks up the call and begins walking down the hall to our bedroom. “Jude Adams-Foster,” I hear him say into the receiver before he shuts the door gently, blocking me from hearing anything else. Not that I would eavesdrop, especially on a work call.

Almost as quick as the door closed, it opens again, and I hear Jude’s footsteps clamor down the hall. “Babe!” he calls hurriedly. “I have to go. One of my kids needs emergency placement."

“Can I come?” I ask.

He looks at me for a second, before nodding. “Sure, if you want,” he tells me. “But you’ll have to be quick. They need me there as soon as possible.”

I rush down to our bedroom, catching a peek of Jude’s flustered attempts to shrug into one of his many work suits. For my part, I exchange my pajama bottoms for some fresh boxers and some dark-wash denim, and run my hands through my hair, before deeming my appearance to be acceptable and running back to the entranceway to shove my feet into my running shoes.

“Let’s go!” Jude says, grabbing his car keys from the hook next to the door and his badge from the small table under the hook.

*****  
We drive in silence to the house where Jude was called. The entire time, I sneak glances at him, to find his face pulled into an extremely serious expression.

I reach over to where his free hand rests on top of the center console and twine our fingers, giving him a reassuring squeeze.

He tears his focus from the road, giving me a grateful smile. I can feel his body relax slightly.

All too soon, we pull up to the house and Jude parks the car. “Wait here,” he says, giving me a brief peck on the lips before grabbing his badge and exiting the vehicle.

I see him through the windshield as he flashes his badge to a police officer standing guard at the front door. He enters the house, and I turn the radio on to pass the time.  
*****

It takes about half-an-hour before I see him come rushing out of the house towards the car. He taps on the driver’s side window, and I stretch out to roll it down. “Everything okay, babe?” I ask worriedly, taking in his expression.

“I need you to come with me okay?” he asks. “It’s important.”

In an instant, I’m unbuckled and opening the door. Jude runs back up to the front door, and I follow closely behind.

Once I’m in the house, I’m immediately assaulted by a vile stench, which my fiancé barely reacts to. It takes everything I have not to run back outside into the fresh air. 

Sitting on the couch, I see a boy of about 12 years of age. He is wrapped up in a blanket and a female officer is rubbing his back in what I’m assuming is meant to be a comforting manner.

The kid looks up into my eyes, and I’m nearly overwhelmed at how lifeless and glassy they are.

My gaze is torn by Jude’s voice.

“Babe, this is Captain Roberts, my Mom’s boss, and this is my colleague Social Worker Dean Williams,” he introduces. “Dean, Captain Roberts, this is my fiancé Connor Stevens.”

“Nice to meet you both,” I say, offering them my hand, which they both shake.

I turn my attention back to my fiancé. “So, why did you bring me in here, babe?” I ask.

He fixes me with his serious look. “I know we’ve been talking about starting a family, Con—” he begins before I cut him off, already guessing where this conversation is headed.

“Jude…” I say warningly.

“Connor!” he retorts, silencing me. “I know this is unexpected, but both Dean and I have no true families we can place him with right now. If we don’t take him, he’ll have to go to a group home.”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see the kid flinch violently. He looks up at me again, studying me intensely with those haunted, glassy eyes of his, waiting to see if I’ll give up on him and shuffle him back into the system.

I sigh, and run my hand over my face. “What about our foster licenses?” I ask. “They haven’t been approved yet.”

“Actually, they were just approved yesterday,” he tells me. “I was going to tell you last night when we got home for dinner but… well, you know what happened,” he finishes sheepishly, a blush coloring his cheeks.

I look at Jude’s colleague. “How long would we be fostering him?” I ask.

He looks surprised that I’ve addressed him. Beside me, I can practically feel Jude beaming, knowing that I’ve caved. “Uh, we expect his current foster parents to be convicted of their crimes, so we’re really looking for a permanent placement, if at all possible,” Williams tells me.

I eye Jude, who is now pouting. I huff, before laughing at his childishness and turning my attention to the kid. For the first time, I see some life in his eyes. He looks hopeful, but guarded, as though he’s been strung along far too many times in his short life.

“Fine,” I say, with as much resolve as I can muster. “We’ll do it, on one condition.”

Williams looks perplexed. “What’s that?"

I make my way over to the kid and kneel down, so the two of us are truly on eye-level with each other. “What’s your name?” I ask him.

“Braden,” he says hesitantly. 

I shift, so that I am still kneeling, but now facing away from Braden and looking at Jude, Williams and Captain Roberts. “My one condition is that Braden be okay with us fostering, and eventually adopting, him.”

I swivel back, so that I am once again facing Braden, who is looking at me as if I’ve grown a second head.

“What’s the catch?” he asks warily. 

“There’s absolutely no catch,” I tell him. “My fiancé was in 7 different foster homes before he found his forever family. Most of those were horrible, but he, and his older half-sister Callie, they didn’t have a choice. I want to give you the power to control your life for once.”

“Seriously?” he asks. 

“Seriously,” I confirm with a nod. “You can either come stay with us, and we can take it a day at a time, build some trust, and go from there, or I will get my fiancé to place you in the safest possible group home that he can. It’s all up to you.”

In less than a second, I feel two rail thin arms pull me into a hug, which I don’t hesitate to return. Lips brush my ear, a voice speaking softly into it. “Please don’t let me down,” it says.

I tighten my hold on this boy, who is now shaking with soft sobs. My reply is one word, spoken with every bit of sincerity my body can muster: “Never.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! In retrospect, Braden did happen very quickly, but I could picture Jude doing something like this if he were to become a social worker (which in this fic, he is) so...
> 
> Anyways, the first of my OC's has been introduced, and he will play a big part in the story from this chapter forward. He's got his own stories and plot arcs, so I hope that everyone enjoys where I will take the character as we move forward.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	4. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A game of 20 Questions between our new family, as they begin the process of getting to know the other. Later, Jude and Connor reassure Braden that they're in this for the long haul.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter for you all to enjoy! Happy reading, everyone.
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the show or its characters. I merely respect the show, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills.

Dean follows us back to the apartment in his car in order to conduct an impromptu home study. If I could do it myself, I would, but I’m too close to the situation.

The only noise in the car as we drive is the radio. Braden just stares blankly out the window.

“So, Braden,” I ask. “How about the three of us play 20 Questions?”

He looks at me incredulously. “Is that seriously the best conversation you can make?” he asks me.

“No,” I tell him. “I can make for a plenty interesting conversation partner once you get to know me, but the three of us have to get to know each other some how, right?”

“Right,” he admits grudgingly.

“So, we’ll ask you 20 questions, and you can give us your answers. For every one that you answer, we’ll answer anything you want to ask us. Does that sound fair?”

“Sounds fair,” he nods.

“Okay,” I tell him. “I’ll let Connor get us started.”

“What’s your favorite type of music?” my fiancé asks.

“I don’t have one,” Braden answers. “I listen to everything. I love music in general.”

“Good to know,” Connor says. “Now it’s your turn. Ask us anything.”

He thinks for a short while, before eventually asking, “How long have you two been together?”

“10 years,” Connor responds. “We met when we were 13, and now we’re 23. We just got engaged last night.”

“Congratulations,” he says sincerely. And then, as if he were afraid we wouldn’t understand he was being genuine, he adds, “I’m being sincere about that.”

“We know you are,” Connor tells him. “Now, it’s Jude’s turn to ask you a question.”

I ponder. This is my chance to make a good first impression on him. But I don’t want to push him, and ask him to answer something he’s uncomfortable with. I settle for, “What’s your favorite food, bud?”

“I’ll eat anything,” he tells me. “I’m not picky. In the foster system, you take what you can get to eat. It’s really expanded my palette. And, drop the ‘bud’ At least for now.”

“Okay, we won’t call you ‘bud,’” I promise with a nod. “And yeah, I know about the rules of survival in the foster system. Your turn again.”

“Was your fiancé serious when he told me you and your sister were in 7 different foster homes before you found your family?”

“Yeah, he was,” I respond. “Connor’s the only person who knows absolutely everything about my experience in foster care. I’ll swap horror stories with you sometime, if you want.”

“Deal,” he says, before turning his attention to Connor. “I think it’s your turn to ask me something.”

“What’s your favorite color?” Connor asks.

“I like yellow,” he says, somewhat sheepishly, as if he expects the two of us to laugh at him. “I always think of happy thoughts when I think of or see the color, and oftentimes, that was the only ray of light I had in any given foster home that I was placed in.”

“That’s nice,” I tell him. 

“Thanks,” he says.

“No problem!” I reply, before proceeding to ask my next question. “What’s your last name?”

“Why do you want to know that?” he asks, confused.

“I’m just curious,” I inform him. “Connor was able to pry your first name out of you back at the house, but I want to know your full name.”

“My last name is Anderson,” he tells us. “Braden Christopher Anderson. And please, can we not talk about that house, or any of my other foster homes?"

“Sure,” Connor and I chorus. “You can tell us about them when you’re ready. We won’t push you, okay?”

“But you’re a social worker,” he says. “It’s your job to push kids.”

“No, it’s not,” I tell him. “My job is to make sure that kids end up in the best possible situations I can put them in. My job is to use my experiences in the foster care system to help repair a system that is badly broken. My job is to make a positive impact on kids’ lives, not to push them beyond their comfort zone, or put them in an unsafe situation just so I can make money. Connor makes more than enough money to support the both of us. I do this purely because I’ve been where you are, and I see it as my job to give back, and to help those without a voice, because not everyone is as lucky as I am.”

For only the second time, upon hearing those words, Connor and I see a crack in Braden’s honest but guarded veneer. It happened quickly, so quickly that, if either of us had blinked we would have missed it.

A tear slid down his face, and while he wiped it away quickly and carefully so as to not draw our attention, we still caught it. It reminded us that we were truly dealing with a 12-year-old, someone who, like Callie and I, was forced to grow up too quickly for most people’s tastes.

Connor places his hand on mine as it rests in its usual place on top of the center console and squeezes gently. I offer him a small smile, which he returns, before the three of us return to our game.

“How long were you in the foster system, Braden?” Connor asks.

Braden can’t mask his shock over Connor’s choice of question. Even I’m surprised by it. 

“I’m still in the foster system,” he answers, mask slipping back into place.

“Not for long,” Connor reminds him. “Mr. Williams said that this would be a permanent placement. As soon as you’re ready, Jude and I will adopt you. But, like I said, we’ll all just take it one step at a time. We understand it will take you a while to get comfortable with us, to trust us, but we’re nothing, if not patient. Hell, I waited 10 years to ask Jude to marry me, and he stuck around 10 years waiting for me to ask him. If that isn’t considered patience, I don’t know what is.”

“Fair enough,” Braden concedes. “Jude mentioned that you made enough money to support the two of you, so what is it exactly that you do, Connor?”

“Oh, I’m an executive in the MLB,” Connor supplies.

Braden’s eyes bug out of his head. “That’s awesome!” he says. “I love baseball!”

“Well then,” I interject. “I’m sure you and Connor will get along just fine.”

He laughs, a real, genuine laugh. “I think so,” he replies, and it’s hard to miss the way Connor’s face lights up when Braden says that. 

He looks at me, giving me a smile that rivals the sun in its brightness. I smile back, and squeeze his hand, before proceeding to ask my question to Braden. “So, what are some activities that you enjoy doing?”

“Well,” he says, pondering it for a minute. “I love playing sports, I love to read, I’m starting to write and I’m finding out that I’m enjoying that. I love watching movies, especially foreign-language movies, and I love to play video games, too.”

“Okay,” I say. “Good to know. I don’t know how good I’ll be at the sports, but I love to read, and play video games. I’m also a decent writer.”

“Trust me, Judicorn,” Connor laughs. “If you are anywhere near as bad at other sports as you were when my father and I took you to the batting cages that one time, you’ll be downright awful at playing with Braden and I.”

Braden laughs again. “Judicorn?” he chuckles. “Is that some kind of nickname?”

I groan. There are times I truly don’t mind Mariana’s childhood nickname for me, and there are times that I really despise it. Mark this as one of the times I despise it. 

“Yes,” I groan. “My adoptive sister made it up. Somehow Connor found out about it, and now he, and virtually everyone else in my family, save for my Moms, calls me either by my first name or my nickname.”

“That’s too funny!” he admits. “Your family sounds interesting.”

“They are,” I assure him. “And not always in the best possible way. We’re having dinner with them all, save for my oldest brother Brandon, tonight.”

Connor and I expect Braden to close off at this and tell us that he wants no part of meeting our family. But he surprises us, by asking, “Can I come?”

“Sure, if you want,” I say, my surprise seeping into my tone. “But really, you don’t have to.”

“I want to,” he assures me. “Tell me about them, please.”

The three of us abandon our game of twenty questions only 6 questions in, and I spend the rest of the car ride home telling him about my crazy, but wonderful family. 

I tell him that Stef is a veteran cop with the San Diego police, and that Lena is now the Principal of our old school. I tell him how Stef was married to Mike, who still serves as her partner on the force, before she realized that she was a lesbian. I tell him about Brandon, and how he’s incredibly gifted at piano. I tell him about Mariana, and how excitable she is and how Connor and I both secretly fear her. I tell him about Jesus, how he has always been the prankster of our brood. I tell him about Callie, how she protected me in the foster system and how she and Brandon saved me from our last foster home after she got released from Juvenile Detention and placed with the family that would eventually become our forever family. I even tell him about Jack, how he helped me cope with Connor’s departure to Los Angeles and how he eventually developed feelings for me as a result of the two of us spending so much time together. I make sure to mention that Stef and Lena eventually adopted Jack just before he aged out of the system and that he is now the sixth kid of the family.

In short, I tell him just about everything. How Callie married A.J. last year, how Brandon has a steady girlfriend in New York, how Jack got over his feelings for me by meeting some guy who was in San Diego with his father on business, and how Jesus and Mariana are the perpetual bachelors in the family. The ones in the family who are fiercely independent, protective and hate being tied down.

We even move on to a few embarrassing stories that my siblings will probably curse me for sharing, but, in the moment, I could care less. Connor and I had started to chip away at this kid’s walls, have made him smile, and laugh for the first time in God knows how long.

As arrive back at our apartment complex, my fiancé and I share an encouraged look before we exit the vehicle. 

Dean follows us up to the apartment, checking his professional relationship with me at the door, as any good social worker would. We can’t allow our relationships to mingle with our work and everyone present knows he is definitely not here for a social visit. He’s here to determine if our home is a suitable environment for Braden, and whether Connor and I would be suitable guardians, and, at some point in the future, parents for him.

As he walks though our apartment, the three of us make ourselves comfortable in the living room. 

We sit next to each other on the couch, me in the middle with Braden on my left, and Connor on my right. We turn on the television, as if it were a normal day, and my two companions outvote me in the decision of which program we’ll watch, leading to me being forced to stomach even more ESPN than I can tolerate on a normal day.

I lean into Connor, and he puts his arm around me, pulling me close to him. Braden loses himself in the television program, which is some sports documentary about an athlete that I’ve never heard about before. Braden seems intrigued however, and that is all that matters.

Eventually, we turn the television off, and stew, waiting for Dean to let us know if we will get his recommendation to become Braden’s guardians.

Connor’s hand traps mine in a vice grip. I squeeze back with an equal amount of intensity. We get another surprise from Braden, when I feel his hand tentatively grasp mine. 

We start talking to pass the time. We make plans to take Braden shopping after he gets properly settled in, for some new clothes and other items. His jaw drops when we tell him he can pick out whatever he wants and that money is no object.

“I can’t accept that,” he tells us. “I don’t want you wasting money on me.”

“You’re not a waste of money,” I say, surprised by the sharpness of my tone.

Braden’s head snaps up. “I’m sorry?”

I sigh lightly. “Listen, Braden,” I tell him. “I don’t yet know what you’ve gone through since you were placed in the system, but I will tell you right now the same thing my future adoptive mother said to my sister on the night they rescued me: you’re not disposable, and you’re not worthless. You are a great kid, from what you’ve shown Connor and I in just the short time we’ve been acquainted. We want to be your forever family, whenever it is that you’re comfortable enough with us to take that step, so please don’t ever think that any money we spend on you is wasteful, okay?”

As my weight of my words settles over the room, I hear the distinct sound of a clearing throat as Dean steps into my field of vision.

I immediately re-take Connor’s hand, as Dean says, “I’ve come to my decision.”

The tension in the room is palpable. I steal glances at both Connor and Braden, who stare back, before the three of us turn to face Dean as he begins speaking again. One way or the other, all three of us know that the hammer is about to drop.

“I’ve conducted a thorough study of the home and its environment,” Dean says. “And it will be my recommendation to the court that Braden Christopher Anderson be placed in the custody of Jude Adams-Foster and Connor Stevens for an indefinite duration. Especially after what I’ve spent the last several minutes observing, and what I’ve just heard Mr. Adams-Foster say to the minor in question, I will also be recommending to all involved parties, that a future adoption is in the best interest of the minor.”

Connor collapses into me, sobbing happily, every bottled-up emotion he’s felt today pouring out of him uncontrollably. I put both of my arms around him and hold him to me tightly, whispering sweet nothings, and pressing an occasional kiss into his hair.

Dean and Braden patiently wait for him to calm down.

Once he’s finally recomposed, Dean speaks again. “I’ll be in touch with both of you. Jude, you have my number if you need it, okay?”

I nod at him, still holding my fiancé tightly in my arms.

Dean strides to the door, picks up his briefcase, and with a brief reminder that he will be by with the papers tomorrow and checking in with the three of us next month, he’s out the door.

Connor eventually disentangles himself from me, and wipes the stray tears from his eyes before cheerfully asking Braden, “Are you up for the grand tour of the place?”

“I guess,” he says.

And so Connor leads him out of the living room to the entryway/kitchen, and then down the hallway. We stop at what will become Braden’s room first, and open the door.

It’s a decently sized bedroom, a little on the smaller side, but decent nonetheless. Braden just looks grateful to have a bedroom. If his foster care story is anything like mine, I’ll bet it more than he’s had in most of his other foster homes.

“We’ll go pick out some stuff for you to make it your own later, okay?” I tell him. “Right now, we’ll let you get some sleep. You must be exhausted.”

Braden yawns. “Yeah, I am, thanks.”

Our bedroom is right next door, the bathroom is right at the end of the hallway and extra pillows and blankets are in the hall closet directly across from your room,” I inform him. “The two of us have had quite a busy couple of days as well, so we’re going to take nap as well. Call for us or come into the bedroom if you need anything, okay?”

Braden nods, and Connor and I exit the room and close the door behind us, before making our way to the bedroom we share.

“Wow!” Connor exclaims as soon as he hits the bed. “What a crazy few days we’ve had.”

“I know,” I tell him, pulling back the covers on the bed and climbing in to snuggle up next to him.

“Just this morning it was just the two of us, and now we have a foster son,” he muses, probably more so to himself than to me. 

“Yes we do,” I reply. 

“It all happened so fast,” he says. “But I wouldn’t change anything.”

“I’m glad,” I say, beaming at him. “I wouldn’t either.”

“Let’s go to sleep for a while,” he suggests, getting into a spooning position. “We still have to deal with your family at dinner tonight, and I think we’re both still tired from the events of last night.”

It takes my fatigued brain a few seconds to comprehend that he’s not talking about our engagement.

“Connor!” I snap, thoroughly scandalized. “Can we please not talk about the events of last night? Especially not with Braden in the next room.”

“Fine,” he whines, pouting. “You’re no fun!”

I laugh. “That wasn’t what you were saying last night, if I recall correctly,” I tease.

“You’re really not helping your own cause by teasing me like that,” he warns.

“Sorry,” I tell him sincerely. “I just couldn’t resist. You set me up with that one perfectly.”

“Point taken,” he concedes. “Sleep well, Jude, I love you.”

“I love you too, Connor.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! I hope you all enjoyed this latest chapter.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	5. Chapter 4

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A trip to the mall, a family dinner and we get reintroduced to a familiar face for the first time in this story.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was one of my most well-recieved early chapters on Fan Fiction.net, so I hope that everyone here (regardless of whether you're an old reader who is re-reading this story again or a new one who is discovering it for the first time) can enjoy it just the same. We have a lot going on in this one, so happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only character I do own in this story is my OC, Braden, and any other characters I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

My eyes flutter open, capturing my fiancé’s angelic face in their sights. Jude always looks so peaceful when he sleeps.

I roll over, and eye the clock on my bedside table to see that’s it’s currently 2:30 in the afternoon. Stef and Lena will be expecting us at the family dinner at 6:00 sharp. 

I nudge Jude. “Babe, wake up!” I shout, and he snaps up instantly, beginning to look around for any imminent threats before settling his narrowed gaze on me. I chuckle at him.

“You’re an ass, Connor Stevens,” he says lowly but firmly. “You know I don’t like being woken like that.”

“But why, Judicorn?” I whine. “It’s so much fun!”

“To you, maybe,” he mumbles sourly, crossing his arms over his chest with a scowl.

“Aw, babe!” I coo. “Don’t be like that. You know I’m just playing.”

He sighs, rubbing his face. “Yeah, I know,” he tells me.

I pull him into me, wrapping my arms around him tightly. It takes a minute, but I finally hear Jude sigh, and feel his arms snake around me, returning the embrace. “What time is it?” he mumbles into my neck.

“2:30,” I supply. 

“Shit!” Jude says, throwing back the covers and starting to pace. “We need to wake Braden. We still have to go shopping, and Mom’s are expecting us at 6.”

It’s so cute seeing him flustered like this. I get out of bed myself, and corral him in an embrace. 

“Jude, slow down and breathe, babe!” I say gently. I feel him inhale and exhale.

“Good,” I say, approvingly. “Now, you go shower, I’ll wake Braden. Then, when you’re done, I’ll shower, and change and we’ll head out to the mall, okay?”

He sighs. “Okay,” he agrees, removing himself from my hold and trudging towards our bathroom. In minutes, I hear the water running, and set about going to wake my new foster son.

I knock first, opening the door just a smidge. “Braden,” I call lowly.

When I get no response, I enter the room to find him still asleep. I’m struck by how peaceful he looks.

His spiky platinum blonde hair is now sticking out in all directions. The comforter envelops his just over 5-foot frame like a cocoon. I almost lose the nerve to wake him, but I know that I have to.

I make my way over to his bedside and gently place my hand on his shoulder. “Braden,” I whisper. “It’s time to get up. We have to go shopping before dinner.”

He stirs, eyes fluttering open and focusing sleepily on me. “Connor?” he asks, voice rough.

“Yeah, Braden, it’s me,” I confirm. 

He rubs his eyes, and sits up. “What time is it?” he asks.

“It’s 2:30. We have to be at Stef and Lena’s for 6:00 sharp.”

“Okay,” he says, pulling back the covers and standing up.

“Why don’t you go take a shower before we go out?” I suggest. 

“Yeah, okay,” he agrees. 

“All right, then,” I nod. “The bathroom at the end of the hall is all yours, then. I’m just waiting for Jude to finish up showering in our bathroom before I take one myself.”

“You can take one before me, if you want,” Braden offers, slightly tentative, as if he is afraid of what I will do to him simply because he was courteous.

Seeing my foster son like that, breaks my heart, but I know from hearing Jude’s stories that it is not altogether unexpected for Braden to be acting in such a way.

I crouch down and look at him straight in the eye. “Braden, I’m not going to hurt you, okay?” I tell him. “I know that being in a new environment, with new people, can be scary, and I know you have absolutely no reason to trust Jude or I yet. I can’t even fathom what you’ve been through in your short life, the type of conditions you were subjected to, and what it is you’ve seen in your previous foster homes, but I can promise you that you’re safe here.”

He looks at me with immense skepticism, and I find myself sighing, before meeting his gaze again.

“Listen, I know this is going to take time. I know that the more trustworthy Jude and I seem, the less you want to trust us because you’re afraid we’ll eventually let you down. I get that. I understand it. But, at a certain point, you have to trust somebody, okay? Jude and I believe that trust is something that has to be earned. We’re not going to ask you to bare your soul to us, but we would really appreciate it if you gave us the opportunity to show you that you can trust us. I know you’ve probably been burned before, but do you think you can bring yourself to do that for me, and for Jude?”

Braden’s features morph into a stunned expression, probably because he didn’t expect me to hit the nail on the head AND ask him if he could allow Jude and I the opportunity to gain his trust. “I—I think I can,” he tells me. 

I nod, getting to my feet. “Good. Now, go shower, okay kid?”

“Okay,” he replies, still visibly shocked.

I close the door behind me as I exit the room. I walk back to my bedroom, catching a glimpse of Jude wearing nothing but a towel, drying his hair.

“Nice view!” I say with a whistle.

He spins, and whips the towel in his hair at me. “Pervert!” he laughs. “Do you ever think about anything else?”

“Let me think,” I tell him, bringing my hand up to my chin and pretending to ponder his question, before breaking character. “Nope!” I conclude with a laugh.

“Get your mind out of the gutter, and your ass in the shower, or you’re sleeping on the couch tonight!” he says in joking warning.

“Yes, sir!” I salute him.

Right before I step into the shower, I feel Jude grasp my arm and spin me around. “I love you, Connor Stevens,” he tells me, pecking me on the lips.

“You know,” I say, eyebrows rising in suggestion. “You could technically still join me.”

Jude huffs. “I could swear that everything I tell you goes in one ear and out the other.”

“Most of the time,” I admit.

He groans, rubbing his face in irritation. “You are going to be the death of me, I know it,” he says, before stomping in exaggerated anger to the bedroom.

I shut the door to the bathroom and step into the shower, starting it up. As the warm water meets my skin, I can only think of how much I truly love Jude Adams-Foster.

*****  
Once Jude, Braden and I have freshened up and redressed, we take our agreed upon trip to the mall to get Braden a new wardrobe and some personal effects.

We get him a desk, a bookshelf, a computer and printer, an MP3 player, a cell phone and a gaming console and games. We also allow him to pick out some paint for his room, a few posters, and even some CD’s.

To his credit, he doesn’t raise an objection to our little spending spree despite his earlier protestations, and by the time we sit down to a snack in the food court, we have a plethora of bags full of our purchases.

“So, what would you like to eat, Braden?” Jude asks.

He looks around, spotting a fry vendor, before training his cerulean eyes on the two us. “Can I have french fries, please?” he asks, overly politely.

“Sure you can!” I agree. “Come with me and we’ll get you fixed up!”

We get in line at the vendors. “So, what size do you want?” I ask him. “Remember we have dinner in about an hour.”

“A medium, please,” he requests.

“Coming right up, then!” I say, stepping up to the cash register. “One medium fry, please,” I tell the cashier.

“Is that all?” he asks, punching the order in.

I turn to Braden. “You want anything to drink?”

“A water, if you don’t mind,” he says quietly.

“One bottle of water,” I repeat to the cashier, who punches it in.

“That’s $5.80,” the cashier says. “How will you be paying today?”

“Cash,” I say, pulling my wallet out of the front pocket of my jeans and plucking a ten from its depths. 

Once I have my change and Braden’s food and drink, we make our way to the condiment island. “What do you like on your fries?” I ask him.

“I don’t know,” he says. “I’ve never had fries before, but I’ve always wanted to try them.”

“You’ve never had fries?” I ask, incredulous.

“No,” he says. “Like I told you both in the car today, in the foster care system, you take whatever food you’re given. You never know when your next meal will be, so you kind of have no choice, really.”

“That’s atrocious,” I mutter, barely keeping a hold on my temper.

He shrugs. “It is what it is,” he says, nonchalantly. 

“Well, whatever it is, it’s not okay,” I fume.

“Connor!” Braden snaps. “Can you please calm down? Thank you for caring, but losing your temper won’t do anything to change what’s happened to me in the foster system. It’s in the past, though. I’m with you and Jude now, and you’ve asked me to allow you the opportunity to gain my trust. I’m willing give you that chance, but I need to know that you can handle the fact that a lot of the things that have happened to me are not pleasant. Can you do that for me?”

I take a deep breath, and exhale, before looking him dead in the eye. “Yes, I can,” I say sincerely.

“Okay, then,” he nods. “Now Jude is probably wondering where in the world we went off to, so we should probably get back.”

You’re right,” I agree.

And so we make our way back to our table, and Braden devours his first ever order of fries excitedly.

“We are so getting those when we go out shopping next!” he declares enthusiastically, once he’s finished them. 

“Whatever you want,” Jude and I chorus. 

“Awesome!” he cheers. “Thank you, for everything today. For taking me in, and buying me all of this,” he says, motioning to the bags that surround the table on either side. 

“You’re very welcome, Braden,” I tell him. “It’s our pleasure!”

Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jude nod in agreement. “Are you about ready to go?” he asks Braden. “We have to be at Stef and Lena’s in an hour.”

I check my watch to find that Jude is right. It’s 5:00.

Braden nods. “I’m ready!”

“Well, then,” I say, let’s get back to the apartment, you can drop off your new stuff, change clothes and then we’ll head to dinner. Sound good?”

Braden stands. “Sounds good!”

*****  
I have to give it to Braden; the kid knows how to dress dapper. He’s sitting in the back seat as we drive to Stef and Lena’s wearing a pair of dark wash denim, a dress shirt, his new sneakers, a trench coat (which he literally begged Jude and I to buy for him saying that it made him ‘look cool’), a fedora, and a pair of sunglasses. 

“You look nice,” I tell him, twisting around in the passenger seat to look at him.

He pulls his shades down his face, exposing his eyes. “Thank you,” he says, before returning the glasses to their previous position.

I turn back around in my seat, and grasp Jude’s hand.

“Are you sure you’re comfortable with this, Braden?” Jude asks, as he’s driving. “You know that we could have just stayed home.”

“I know,” he reassures both of us. “If I didn’t want to go, I would have told you.”

“I’m glad,” Jude says. “Do you want the radio on?”

“Sure,” he nods. 

Jude pushes the power button on the stereo, and the riff of a guitar reverberates through the entire car.

The rest of the ride to Stef and Lena’s is filled with music, vocal displays and laughter.

As I sneak a peek at Braden through my pull-down mirror, which I’ve lowered under the guise of fixing my hair, I see him smile.

I run my hands through my hair before snapping the mirror shut.

My fingers once again twine with my fiancé’s. I look at him to see him softly singing along to the song currently playing.

As we pull into the driveway of the Adams-Foster house, I think to myself that I could definitely get used to what has, in the past seven-and-a-half hours, become my life.

*****  
“We’re here!” Jude calls, as we enter the house.

“Right on time, loves!” Stef calls. “Come grab a seat, we’re in the kitchen!”

I squeeze Jude’s hand and Braden follows behind us, now looking slightly nervous. I catch his eye just before we turn the corner into the kitchen.

“It’s okay,” I mouth to him, silently. “We’re both right here with you.”

He nods, steels himself, and the three of us finally round the corner to see the rest of the Adams-Foster clan (minus Brandon) seated around the table.

Jesus is the first to notice Braden. “Oi!” he says. “Who’s this little dude?”

Jude and I both put a hand on Braden’s shoulder. “This is our foster son, Braden,” Jude announces.

“Hi,” Braden greets quietly. “It’s nice to meet you.”

Within seconds, the entire table, save Stef and Lena, erupts into absolute chaos, firing questions at Jude and I left and right. Even Braden gets pulled into the fray, becoming a recipient of one of Mariana’s death squeezes, which he handles with quite a bit of grace, all things considered.

“That’s enough!” Stef says authoritatively, in her police officer voice. “Everyone stop with the questions. Mariana let the boy breathe, please!”

Everyone freezes. Mariana sheepishly lets go of Braden, who gasps for breath.

“Thank you,” Stef says. “Jude, Connor, take a seat. I’ll get you a chair, Braden.”

“Thank you,” he says, offering her a small smile, which she returns. 

“I hope you like lasagna, Braden,” Lena interjects.

“I’m not a picky eater, ma’am,” he tells her. “Lasagna sounds amazing.”

Lena beams. Stef returns with a chair for Braden, who tucks himself in close to the island. Jude and I take our seats on either side of him, with Mariana next to Jude and Jack next to me.

Dinner is a relatively quiet affair. Callie updates us on how her Fost and Found company is doing. Mariana tells us about some date she was on last night, which causes Jesus to turn an interestingly angry shade of red. He still was incredibly protective of her, regardless of her assertions to him that she can take care of herself. 

It’s Stef and Lena who finally bring up our engagement, congratulating us, which sets off a domino effect. I can’t help but notice that Jack is the exception. He glares at me with barely concealed contempt.

“So, Jack,” I address him. “I couldn’t help but notice you were the only one of Jude’s siblings not to send us a text this morning congratulating us on our engagement.”

If looks could kill, I’d be dead under the force of the dirty look Jack gives me. “Congratulations,” he says, pasting a fake smile on his face that I can see right through.

There’s a bit of an awkward silence for a few minutes before Mariana breaks it.

“So, when did this happen?” she asks, gesturing between Jude, Braden and I.

“Just today, Mari,” Jude answers. “I got a call just after you left that a kid needed emergency placement. Connor came with me to the house. After I spent about thirty minutes in the house, the conversation between Captain Roberts, my colleague Dean, and myself turned to where we would place Braden here. I knew that Connor and I had just got our foster licenses approved the previous day, but with the engagement happening, I didn’t get a chance to tell him. So, I interjected, said I might have a solution and brought Connor into the house and asked told him about what I was thinking. He eventually caved to me, as he always does, and we asked Braden if he wanted to stay with us. He said yes, and we took him home. Dean said he would bring the paperwork by tomorrow and then the arrangement will be final.”

“That’s nice, boys!” Stef and Lena say. The rest of the family follows suit with similar sentiments save for Jack, who is now looking at Jude like he’s been kicked.

I nudge him, pointing this out. He gives me an understanding look, one that says he’ll take care of it, and squeezes my hand, as if to reassure me that I have nothing to worry about.

The rest of the dinner proceeds as most every other dinner at the Adams-Foster household. When we are about to leave, Jude pulls Jack to the side. Braden and I listen in.

“What’s your problem, Jack?” Jude asks. “You’ve been glaring at Connor, Braden and I all night.”

“My problem is that you’re living your life!” he retorts sharply. “You just got engaged, you have a foster kid. It’s all coming together for you!”

“And your jealous, right?” Jude asks, voice dangerous.

“Damn right I am!” he admits. “We should be the one’s engaged! We should be the one’s fostering Braden! What does Connor have that I don’t, Jude?”

“Everything,” Jude says coldly. “He’s everything you’re not, and everything you want to be.”

“HE LEFT YOU, JUDE!” Jack thunders, causing Braden to jump. I squeeze his shoulder comfortingly.

“Now, wait one minute, Jack!” Jude says, irritation thick in his voice. “Connor WANTED to stay with me here, but with his dad, it became an impossible situation. He COULDN’T stay without putting himself even further into Adam’s crosshairs. It was too big a risk for him, REGARDLESS of how much he loved me. So, yes, he left me. And yes, you helped me cope with that. You were a great friend, but you were never anything more than that in my eyes. I’m sorry if you feel like you’re missing out on a life you think you should’ve had, but the thing is, I’m not. I love Connor with every inch of my being. I love my life, and my new foster son. Pretty soon, I’ll be married to the love of my life, and eventually, we’ll adopt Braden, if all goes well. And if you care about me at all, you’ll at least pretend to be happy for me, and accept that a relationship between the two of will never happen.”

I can hear Jude storming out of the room. He runs to me, tears in his eyes, and I hold him close. “You did good, babe,” I reassure him, kissing his temple. “I’m so proud of you. I love you so much.”

“And I love you,” he says against my chest, before pulling back and pressing his lips to mine in a needy, desperate kiss that is full of passion.

I pull away. “ As much as I love kissing you, I think Jack and I need to set some boundaries, if you’d excuse me, babe.”

Jude grasps my arm. “Babe, don’t. He’s not worth it!”

I sigh and nod. “You’re right,” I agree. “Where is Braden?”

Jude looks to where Braden was standing before we here his voice in the other room.

“Listen, you!” he says, angered. “In just the 10 hours I’ve been placed with them, Jude and Connor have become the best foster parents I’ve ever had. You were in the system too. I know you know how hard it is to find a good family, and I swear to God if you ever make a pass at Jude again, not only will Connor be furious at you, but I will, too.”

Jude and I look at each other, pride in Braden shining in both of our eyes.

We hear him storm out, and he comes face to face with us. “Can we go now?” he asks.

I reach out and ruffle his hair. Surprisingly, he lets me do that. 

“Sure, Braden,” I tell him, feeling Jude nod beside me. “Let’s go.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> As I said in my chapter-opening notes, we had a lot going on in this chapter, so I'm interested to know what everyone is thinking. I hope you all enjoyed this chapter and that you'll continue to enjoy the rest of the story as we continue forward.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	6. Chapter 5

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude and Connor sign on the dotted line to make their fostering of Braden official. Later, Jude and Braden swap stories from their time in foster care, and Braden begins to open up to our couple...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another new chapter for you all to enjoy! Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only character I do own in this story is my OC, Braden, and any other characters I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

As Connor and I put the last signatures on the documents that Dean has been shoving in our faces for the past half-an-hour, I let out a relieved sigh. 

Connor chuckles beside me, pulling me into a side-arm embrace and kissing my temple. “Happy, babe?” he asks.

“Very,” I confirm.

“Are you happy Braden is officially our foster son,” he asks. “Or are you just happy to be done with all the paperwork?”

“Would you believe me if I said both?” I ask him, and he laughs.

“Yes, Jude,” he says. “I would.”

“Good,” I mumble, cuddling into him. “Because I’m glad Braden is officially placed with us, but the paperwork is such a bitch!”

I look up at Dean. “Remind me again,” I ask him. “Of why in the hell we have foster parents do all of this, would you?”

He looks puzzled by the question. “Because it’s protocol?” he says, unsure of exactly what I expect his answer to be.

“I know that!” I tell him. “I know it’s protocol, it’s just frustrating. I mean, no wonder foster parents get annoyed with us.”

Dean laughs. “Ain’t that the truth?” he agrees. “I have to tell you Foster, you’re not as bad as I thought you were.”

“You thought I was bad?” I asked him, incredulous, quickly running through all my interactions with Dean since I joined Social Services. “How so?” 

“Not bad as in, like evil,” he’s quick to assure me. “But I thought you were stiff, a workaholic. You’re so serious and intense on the job that you give off the impression that the job is your life and you have nothing outside it. Seeing you yesterday and today has been an eye-opener for me.”

“Thanks,” I tell him, before reinserting some humor in my tone. “But you better not let it get around the office.”

“Why not?” he asks me. “People would finally stop calling you a humorless workaholic robot if they saw this side of you.”

“They call him what?” Connor seethes. I squeeze his shoulder and nuzzle his neck before pressing a light kiss to his pulse point, instantly calming him.

“It’s okay, babe,” I whisper soothingly. “I don’t mind, honestly.”

Connor looks at me like I’ve lost my mind. “Babe, you know I love how you never let anything get to you, but why on Earth would you be okay with anyone, much less your colleagues, calling you anything other than what we both know you really are: a kind, loving, funny, passionate, intelligent human being?”

“If you hadn’t noticed, babe,” I tell him. “I’m one of the top social workers in San Diego. That isn’t an accident. I am where I am because I worked my ass off, and I’m the only active social worker on Social Services payroll that has experience being in the foster care system. I get these kids better than any of my colleagues because I’ve experienced that life. I know how unstable it is, I know how hard it can be. Every placement I’ve seen to has ended in an adoption, with a kid getting a loving home. That’s because I can read people well, I know the signs of a good foster parents, and bad ones because I’ve, however unfortunately had to deal with my fair share of both. My colleagues are insecure because all they have is book smarts, whereas I have both the book smarts and the real life experience. They fear me because they know I have what they don’t. I like it like that. As long as you, Braden, our family and our friends know who I really am, I could care less what my colleagues think or say about me.”

“Wow!” Dean interjects, while Connor’s jaw drops. “You really are something else, aren’t you, Foster?” 

“I suppose so,” I nod. “I think it goes without saying that when you’re in the office, you need to act like you haven’t been made privy to what I’m like outside of it. Can you do that for me?”

Dean nods in the affirmative, and picks up his briefcase, and walking to the front door of the apartment. Before he leaves however, he hands me a file folder. 

I peer at the name on the tab: BRADEN CHRISTOPHER ANDERSON

My blood freezes in my veins: Dean has just handed me Braden’s records. 

As a social worker, I keep several files pertaining to my job, including a record for every kid I’m responsible for. Those records are without question the most confidential of the documents a social worker has access to. Everything that anyone would ever need to know about someone in the system gets placed in his or her record, from school report cards, to notations on any infractions, to details on previous placements. It’s like a roadmap of a kid’s time in the system.

“I thought perhaps you’d like to know what the kid’s been through,” Dean reasons, although neither of us asked him to. “No foster parent should be unprepared.”

With that, he exits the apartment, door swinging shut behind him, leaving Connor and I looking at the door in stunned silence.

“You okay, babe?” Connor asks me, worriedly.

I shake my head, partially from shock and partially because I’m really not okay.

“What is it?” he asks, coming up behind me and locking his arms around my waist.

“Do you have any idea what this is, Connor?” I ask him quietly.

“A file on Braden?” he guesses.

He’s technically correct, but this isn’t just any ordinary file we’re talking about here.

“Connor,” I say, “Do you remember when I gave you my foster care record before we moved in here?”

“Yeah,” he tells me, slightly confused as to where I’m going with this. “Why?”

“Do you recall what I told you was in that file?” I question him further.

“It was absolutely everything about your time in foster care—“ he cuts himself off mid-sentence. “Oh,” he says. “That file is Braden’s record, isn’t it?”

“Very perceptive, my oblivious idiot,” I tease lovingly. “That’s exactly right. This is Braden’s record.”

“Hey!” Connor says, pouting.

“I’m just teasing you, babe,” I tell him.

He perks up. “I know!” he says, pulling me to him for a kiss.

When we part, he deflates the elephant in the room. “So, what are we going to do with this file?”

“We’re going to put it in the safe for safe-keeping, but otherwise we’re going to do absolutely nothing with it!” I declare resolutely.

“You’re not even curious about what could possibly be in there?” Connor asks.

“Of course, I am!” I admonish him. “But we promised Braden that we would wait for him to tell us on his own time, whenever he was ready. We certainly wouldn’t be doing ourselves any favors by invading his privacy by reading his record. The stuff in here is very personal, Connor. Do you remember mine?”

My fiancé stiffens, cracking his neck. When he speaks next, his tone has dropped an octave. “Yes.”

“Good, so you how damaging it can be if we were to give into our curiosity. It would do unbelievable damage to Braden psychologically, and, more importantly, it would fracture any trust he has in us beyond repair. Besides, we gave him our word. We need to stick to it. We need to show him that when we say something, we mean it.”

“You’re right, as usual,” Connor nods.

“Why, thank you, my lovely fiancé,” I say. “Flattery will get you absolutely everywhere!”

“I was hoping you’d say that!” he tells he, eyes glinting with lust as he moves in to kiss me.

I put my hand out to stop him. “Not now, babe!” I say to him. “Maybe later. But only if you’re good, okay?"

He huffs, rolling his eyes behind closed lids. “Fine, Mom,” he retorts.

“Watch it, you!” I warm him, throwing my hands out to tickle him.

He tries to dodge but I grab hold of him by the waist, pulling him to the couch and plunging my fingers into the sensitive skin of his rib cage.

“Jude, stop!” he laughs. “I can’t breathe! Have mercy!”

“Apologize, Connor!” I tell him. “Apologize for calling me your Mom, and I’ll let you off the hook.

“I’m sorry,” he says.

“You’re forgiven,” I announce, leaning down to peck him on the lips. “Now let’s go put that file in the safe,” I order, dismounting from Connor, who is still catching his breath.

He looks up at me. “Mark my words, Jude Adams-Foster,” he says, pointing a finger for effect. “One of these days I will find your weakness, and when I do I will enact my revenge.”

“Whatever helps you sleep at night, babe,” I tell him, leaning down to give him another peck, before righting myself and snatching the manila file folder off of its place on the coffee table.

I barely have enough time to sit down on the couch before the sound of footsteps padding down the hallway slowly announces that our new foster son is awake. He comes into view swathed in one of his many pairs of new pajamas, hair tousled, and sleep still weighing heavily on the lids of his eyes.

“Good morning, Braden,” I greet him. “Did you sleep well?”

He nods. “Best sleep I’ve had in ages.”

‘Probably because it was on an actual bed, instead of God knows what else,’ I find myself thinking, startled at how true the thought most likely was.

I smile. “Good,” I find myself saying. “I’m glad. Do you want me to fix you anything for breakfast?”

“Sure,” he says. “Can I have coffee, too?”

“Absolutely not!” Jude and I chorus immediately. “You’re 12 years old. Do you have any idea how much caffeine is in coffee?”

“No, why?” he asks, wiping away the fatigue.

“It doesn’t matter why,” I tell him gently. “What matters is that it isn’t smart for you to be drinking it at your age.”

“Well, abusive foster parents are too smart, generally,” he counters.

Connor and I are stunned into silence. Braden meanwhile fixes us with a worried expression. “Did I say something wrong?”

“No,” I tell him, heart breaking as much from his impromptu revelation as the relief the floods his features at my statement. “We just weren’t expecting you to be so open about it. Do you want to talk about it?”

“One of my stories for one of yours?” he asks me, remembering our deal to share stories of our respective experiences in the foster system.

“Sure,” I agree. “Before I start, Connor and I want you to know we finalized the fostering arrangement today. Mr. Williams came by with the paperwork… but there was something else he brought, too.”

Braden’s eyes furrow in confusion. “What was it?”

I inhale. On the exhale, I tell him. “It was your record.”

He blanches. “Really?” he asks.

“Really,” I confirm.

“You two didn’t, right?” he asks us. The ‘read it’ part of the sentence went unsaid.

“No, absolutely not!” Connor intones. “I remember when Jude gave me his record, how nervous and afraid he was. We wouldn’t invade your privacy like that. We were curious, but we gave you our word that we’d let you tell us about your past when you were comfortable doing so, and we intend to keep it. The file is locked in the safe in our bedroom.”

“Okay,” he says, exhaling a breath I’m not even sure he knew she was holding. “Thank you for being honest, and for keeping your word.”

“Of course,” Connor and I chorus.

“Now, I’d like to hear that story, Jude,” Braden says, turning our attention back to the “Jude and Braden Foster Care Horror Story Swap.”

Okay,” I tell him. “I was in my last foster home before I was adopted by Stef and Lena. My foster father and his wife had just divorced, and a lot of her clothes and personal items were still in the house. I was bored one day, and decided to go look around the house. In the wardrobe of the master bedroom hung a bunch of dresses. I don’t know what possessed me to do it, even after all these years, but I decided to try one on. I slid it over my head, and right at that moment, my foster father bursts through the door, sees me in the dress and drags me out of the room. He hit me repeatedly. I remember thinking that I might actually die. But Callie stepped in and saved me. She took a baseball bat to the windshield of his car. Unfortunately, the police didn’t believe her when she said she was protecting me, and they shipped her off to Juvie. She went from there to Adams-Foster house and her and Brandon came and rescued me. My foster father had pulled a gun on Callie before Stef and Mike burst into the house and arrested him.”

“Wow,” Braden says. “Sounds intense.”

“It was,” I nod. “I thought we were all dead before Stef and Mike came in.”

“Do you still wear dresses?” Braden asks.

“No,” I tell him. “I never touched them again. Now, the only thing I wear is my signature blue nail polish.”

“Can you do mine?” he asks suddenly. “My nails I mean…”

“Sure!” I agree. “I’ll paint them after I do mine.”

“Okay!” Braden says happily.

“Now, how about your story, now?”

He takes a deep breath and exhales. “My last foster parents, the one’s you took me, were criminals, obviously. They treated me like a slave. I had to do everything they asked or they would withhold my meals. They worked me to exhaustion; my body was in shock when you entered the house Jude, that’s why I had the blanket wrapped around me. A lot of times, to keep me working as long as possible they gave me copious amounts of coffee.”

Connor and I are near identical mirrors: eyes wide, jaws on the floor. “Holy,” Connor says. “Wow!”

“Is that why you asked for coffee? I ask. 

“Yes,” he admits looking down.

I look at Connor, sharing a look. “Can we come give you a hug? I ask.

Braden nods. We make our way over to him and tentatively wrap our arms around him in a dual hug. We’re pleasantly surprised when he hugs us both individually as well.

I share another look with my fiancé and I know we’re thinking that we could both get used to this.

Pulling back, I look him in the eye. No coffee Braden, okay?” I tell him, and he nods. “We’ll get you soda instead.”

“That sounds good!” he tells me. “ You know, I’ve always wanted to try cola…”

Our kitchen erupts in laughter. 

After we finish the breakfast I prepared, Braden bounces on his heels and is ready to go within minutes for a promised trip to the baseball diamond. It’s hard to tell what he’s more excited about: the opportunity to come to the ballpark with us, or the opportunity to have his first cola ever.

But that doesn’t really matter.

Braden is smiling, excited, and happy. And for Connor and I, that is what we truly care about.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! It was another set-up kind of chapter, but I'm always interested to hear what everyone thinks. I hope you enjoyed this chapter, and that you'll continue to enjoy the rest of the story as we progress forward.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	7. Chapter 6

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Braden gets a new nickname, and starts at Anchor Beach...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> With this chapter, we have the introduction of a new POV to the story. If you've noticed, I've alternated between Connor and Jude's POV so far, and when I first published the fifth chapter on Fan Fiction.net, I asked my readers there if they wanted me to incorporate Braden's POV into the story. The response to that was overwhelmingly positive, and so I hope that everyone here on AO3 can enjoy reading Braden's perspective on events too!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only character I claim any type of ownership once so ever of, is my OC Braden, and any characters that I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

It’s been roughly two weeks since I got placed with Jude Adams-Foster and Connor Stevens, and I’m getting more comfortable with them by the day. I don’t flinch at their touch, I’ve let them hug me a few times, I’ve even relaxed my restriction on their usage of the word ‘bud,’ which they’ve taken to calling me quite naturally.

They’ve asked me to try and trust them. And the weird thing is, despite every impulse in my body telling me to do otherwise, I’m starting to.

Not reading my record when Mr. Williams gave it to them after they finished the paperwork finalizing the fostering arrangement really helped them in that regard. 

As far as I know, that file is still in their bedroom safe. Jude even told me that he tore into the man the very next day for even bringing the file. He got even angrier when he realized that Mr. Williams himself had read a bit of it, and demanded that he come by the apartment to personally apologize to me.

I was upset, but the man looked thoroughly chastened so I knew Jude must have lit into him pretty good. I lectured him on my right to confidentially and was able to extract a promise from him that he would never look in another kid’s file without authorization before I forgave him for his indiscretion.

Jude stepped in at that point, and in a very dangerous tone said, “Thank you for apologizing to my son. If you ever do anything like this again, I’ll make sure you won’t be able to find work at any Social Services branch in the world. Understand?”

The man nodded, and retreated from the apartment as fast as his aging legs would allow. I’ll admit now that the sight of a grown man looking so scared was particularly amusing to me. In my experience, that never happens. My memories of adults usually begin with them towering over me, and end with me losing consciousness.

I thanked Jude for standing up for me, even though I was wasn’t technically his son.

He looked at me with a look of pure sincerity and said, “Yes, you are,” which was a sentiment that Connor immediately echoed.

I was floored. No foster parents were this sincere. Usually they are all smiles until the door closes and the curtains are drawn. You know the saying that you never know what goes on behind closed doors? Well… you’re smart enough to figure out the rest of that, so you can infer what you will as to what happened.

As I was saying though, usually my foster families were the epitome of perfection on the outside, but not behind closed doors. And by now, I’ve dealt with enough bad foster families to immediately be able to pick up on whether they were genuine or simply acting.

When I looked at Jude and Connor, I saw nothing but sincerity in their eyes. And every single time I’ve looked at them in the past two weeks, it’s still there. I’m pretty sure sincerity has taken up a permanent residence in their eyes, co-existing harmoniously with the obvious love the two have for each other.

I now understand the quip that Jude’s brother Jesus made at dinner that first night about the both of them being “so sickeningly in love with each other that it makes everyone else blind.”

Anyways, today I start at Anchor Beach. I’m nervous, but I think anyone in my position would be. I stand in front of the mirror in my bedroom, which has been painted a combination of yellow and black, examining my outfit. I take my fedora off and run my hands through my hair, before placing it back on. I decide to add a studded blue belt to the ensemble, which compliments my dark-wash jeans, flannel shirt and painted nails perfectly.

I nod at myself in the mirror as I hear Jude call out. “Braden! Let’s go, bud! Breakfast!”

“Coming!” I call, as I take one last look in the mirror.

Padding down to the kitchen, I take my seat at the breakfast nook. “Good morning, bud,” Connor says, ruffling my hair.

“Good morning,” I reply.

“You sleep well?” he asks me, nose buried in a newspaper.

“Yeah, I did, thanks,” I tell him, before turning my attention to Jude, who is working at the stove. “Whatever you’re cooking smells great, Jude.”

“Thank you!” he says, as he lifts the pan off the burner, and puts the contents on a plate off to the side.

I close my eyes, basking in the sizzling sound coming from the frying pan and the smell of freshly brewed coffee percolating in the machine.

I open them again to Jude’s voice. “Bon appétit!” he says, placing the finished plate in front of me for my consumption. It’s a big breakfast of cereal, bacon and eggs.

“Thank you,” I tell him. “You didn’t have to cook all of this for me.”

Jude shrugs. “It’s a big day, and you need to eat.”

I accept his answer with a nod. “What do you want to drink?” he asks me. “Do you want milk, orange juice, lemonade, or do you want to have one of your two coffee’s for the week?”

That’s another thing about Jude and Connor: they actually care about me.

A week after I started staying with them, I started suffering withdrawal symptoms from my caffeine addiction. They took me to a doctor, who explained what I already knew. I told the doctor about how my most recent foster family used coffee to make sure that I stayed awake until my plethora of chores for the day were done and that I often crashed in exhaustion. He gave me a horrified, yet sympathetic look and recommended to Jude and Connor that they should gradually wean me off of coffee, and although he praised them for trying to use soda as a replacement, he said that my body was used to so much caffeine that one soda a day wouldn’t have helped to make up the difference for the over 5 cups of coffee I was forced to consume on a daily basis at my old foster home.

Apparently, my body had learned how to function with that much caffeine in my system and was used to the effects of such an astronomical amount of the drug that it was at a loss of how to cope without it.

He placed me on a strict regiment of a daily soda, and two cups of coffee a week, before telling the three of us to wait where we were while he stepped out for a minute.

He returned a short while later with a paper cup and some cream and sugar. “I recommend having a coffee now, but I didn’t know how you took it.”

“Thank you,” I said to him, taking the cup and savoring the smell that I had gone without for a week at that point. I sipped it down black, as the three of us drove back to the apartment after the doctor wrote on his prescription pad and handed to slip to Jude and Connor.

For the past week, we’ve followed the instructions given to us by the doctor and I’ve felt a lot better for it. We’re going to do another week of two coffees and then bring it down to one for another two weeks, before we try a week where I’ll have no coffee at all.

I’m grateful to them for caring enough of about me to even go to the doctor. Most of my previous foster families never worried about me on that level. If I even said I was in pain, the usual response I got was being told to suck it up and take it like a man. I’ve had to ignore the pain of cracked ribs when I’ve breathed more times than I can count. I am also more adept at stitching myself up than one should ever be at my age.

Thinking of that reminds me that I still haven’t answered Jude’s question. I snap from my reverie to see him holding open the door of the refrigerator, cocking his eyebrows in question. 

“I think I need a coffee today,” I say to him, finally.

He nods, shuts the fridge and moves over to the counter where the coffee machine sits, extracting the pot from it and pulling a mug from the cabinet, which he pours the hot liquid into, before handing it to me.

“Thank you,” I say, sipping it carefully so as to not burn my tongue. 

“No problem!” he says, as he pours a coffee for himself and brings his plate over to sit on my left. “How are you feeling about today?”

“I’m nervous, but excited,” I tell him.

“Understandable!” Jude laughs with a nod. “You should have seen me on my first day at Anchor Beach. I was terrified.”

“Terrified?” I hear Connor repeat. I glace over to see he has finished with his paper and is now up and fixing his own plate of food. “Babe,” he says lovingly. “Terrified doesn’t even begin to do it justice.”

“Hush, you!” Jude grumbles good-naturedly, with a dismissive wave. “Like you were any better on your first day.”

“Actually,” Connor retorts. “Yeah, I was.”

“Liar!” Jude counters, eyes narrowing slightly, but not in an intimidating way. “You told me when we were 17 that you were just as nervous as I was.”

One of the many things I’ve picked up on since living with Jude and Connor is just how observant Jude is, and just how good of a memory he has. It’s almost impossible to get even a simple lie past him, and his memory is nearly infallible. He remembers stuff from years ago, even if it doesn’t pertain to Connor, whom he has told me that he remembers absolutely everything about.

Connor is quicker to act than Jude, but he doesn’t always think things through. He’s a lot more impulsive, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing, but it can be. He credits Jude for reigning him in a lot over the course of their relationship, and I’ve noticed that most of the time, it is indeed Jude who calms him down, or stops him whenever he springs to action and convinces him to talk things through first. 

He’s even had that effect on me, in the short time I’ve been around him. He calmed me down when I heard a homophobic remark directed their way while we were out on the town for the day. I’ve never reacted that strongly to anything in my life. I was furious that someone would dare to assume anything was wrong with them just because they were together romantically. 

Jude took me into a side-arm embrace, and whispered in my ear that it was okay. That he and Connor were used to it from people, even in this day and age. He told me to breathe with him, to calm down, and to think before I said or did anything that I couldn’t take back.

I’ve never seen a couple like these two. They’re so supportive of each other, and of me. They balance each other out perfectly. They also never keep secrets from each other. They literally talk about everything. 

It’s been refreshing to see, after the sorry excuses for relationships I’ve seen from some of my previous foster parents.

Turning back to the present, I hear Connor swear. “Damn your memory, Judicorn!” before looking at me sheepishly out of the corner of his eyes at the behest of Jude, who is giving him an epic glare. “Sorry,” he apologizes to me.

“Don’t worry about it,” I assure him. “I’ve heard far worse.”

“But you shouldn’t have,” Connor reasons. “I’m going to try to curb it, okay?”

“You don’t have to do that for me,” I tell him. “But, if it makes you feel better, feel free to try.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I’ll still do it. It’s a bad habit that can get you in a lot of trouble if you’re not careful.”

“Fair enough,” I nod.

Looking back to Jude, I see him smirking at Connor triumphantly. Connor just shakes his head and returns to breakfast.

‘God, I love how this couple interacts with each other,’ I think to myself. 

And I do. It doesn’t take a genius to see that this is what a relationship should be like. Even, I can see it, and, like I said, I don’t exactly have the greatest examples to go off of.

Jude looks at the clock, and nearly spits his coffee out. “We need to get a move on!” he says frantically. “Let’s go, Con! Let’s go, BC!”

I push my chair out and stand before freezing, as I realize that he called me something other than Braden or bud. “BC?” I question him.

He shrugs. “I’m Judicorn, and Connor is Con,” he says. “I thought you needed a nickname too. You don’t like it?”

I think briefly. “I love it, actually,” I tell him honestly. “Can you call me that from now on, instead of Braden?”

Jude and Connor exchange a surprised look with each other. When they speak next, it’s as one. “If that’s what you want,” they tell me.

“It is,” I nod, giving them a reassuring smile.

“Well, okay then BC,” Connor tells me. “Let’s get you to school!”

“Sounds good!” I declare.

*****  
Arriving at Anchor Beach, I feel my nerves spike. ‘This is it,’ I say to myself, my breathing becoming shallow.

That must be what gives me away, because Jude and Connor turn in their seats to look at me. “BC, breathe buddy,” Jude tells me. “You’re going to be okay, I promise.”

I follow his instructions, taking a deep breath and exhaling. “Thanks,” I say gratefully.

“Don’t mention it,” he tells me. “I’ve been exactly where you are now. I know it’s scary, but you passed the entrance exam with flying colors and you’re smart in ways that they’ll never be able to judge by a test. You’ll be just fine.”

“But, what if no one likes me?” I ask. 

“They’ll love you,” Connor intones gently. “How could they not? Just be yourself, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod. 

“And if you need to come home, call Jude or I at any time on your cell and we’ll come get you at any time, no matter what. Okay?” he tells me.

“Okay,” I say. 

“Good,” Connor beams. “Now get going, buddy! Lena is waiting for you in the office to take you to your first class.”

I exit the car. “Have a good day!” Jude calls out the window

“Thanks,” I call back.

He smiles and waves at me. I take a deep breath, before ascending the steps to the front entrance. I pull the door open and walk smack dab into someone, sending me sprawling backwards.

“I’m so sorry,” I hear a voice say. Reorienting myself, I see a beautiful girl, about my age, hovering over me nervously. She’s got long black hair, and beautiful green eyes, which I immediately lose myself in.

“Are you okay?” she asks, voice cutting through my haze like a knife.

I shake myself out of. “Yeah, I’m fine.” I reassure her, rubbing the back of my neck and looking down sheepishly, a blush coloring my cheeks.

“Good,” she says, heaving a relieved sigh. “I thought I’d hurt you.”

I shake my head. “No, you didn’t,” I tell her. I wisely bite back the “I’ve had worse” part of the sentence.

‘Who is this girl, and what has she done to me?’ I ask myself. ‘I can just barely talk to Jude and Connor about stuff like this, and yet, I feel compelled to tell this girl everything.’

It’s like she reads my mind, at least partially. “I’m Marina,” she supplies, holding her hand out to me. “Marina Reyes.”

“I’m Braden,” I introduce myself. “Braden Anderson. BC for short.”

“BC?” she asks aloud, probably more to herself than to me. She nods. “I like it!”

“Thanks,” I say, feeling my cheeks get hot yet again. 

“I haven’t seen you around before,” she says.

“It’s my first day today,” I explain. “My foster fathers enrolled me just recently.”

“Oh!” she says. “That’s cool! Welcome to Anchor Beach!”

“Thanks,” I say sincerely. “I have to go meet Principal Adams-Foster now. She’s supposed to take me to my first class.”

“Oh, okay!” she says, slightly too quick. “I’m sorry I kept you.”

“It’s not a problem!” I assure her. “I’ll see you around.”

“I look forward to it!” she says, and I notice a slight nervousness to her tone. “Bye, BC.”

She walks away. I wait until she’s out of my field of vision, before leaning against a pillar.

I think I’m in love.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! I'm very interested to hear what you thought of Braden's perspective. He's very integral to the story, especially as we continue to move forward with the plot, so I hope you were all able to enjoy seeing things through his eyes.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	8. Chapter 7

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude and Connor experience parental worry over BC's first day at Anchor Beach before Connor gets not one but TWO unexpected surprises. One sends him into a euphoric state while the other... well, he's not quite sure what to think

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you all enjoyed BC's POV last chapter! We have a lot going on in this chapter too, so I hope you all enjoy it! Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I lay claim to are my OC’s Braden (BC) and Marina, as well as any characters I wish to create and insert into future chapters of this story

BC has only been at Anchor Beach for a few hours, and I’m already reached the peak level of my anxiety.

I have to give credit to Stef and Lena; I don’t know how they did this with five out of six kids. Hell, I don’t even know how my mother did it when I was a kid.

I know he’ll be fine. Like I told him in the car, he’s smart and he’s a really great kid. But I know from seeing Jude come to Anchor Beach that the stigma of being a foster kid can be difficult to overcome. Add the general stigma to the fact that he is in the custody of two foster fathers, as opposed to a traditional family, and it can be even more difficult. Not that anything like that should matter, especially in 2026, but Jude and I know all too well that there are still people who think traditionally, despite all the progress that’s been made towards equality in the past decade.

We don’t care what they say or do to us, but becoming parents has made Jude and I incredibly protective of Braden. He’s 12 years old. He shouldn’t have to be hearing things like that. We were out once, and it took all of Jude’s skills as a Social Worker to calm him down.

Speaking of Jude, I can’t help but wonder how he’s coping. He’s been exactly where Braden is, so I’m curious if he is as distracted at his work as I am.

Just as the thought comes to me, I feel my phone vibrate with a text:

Jude: I’m so distracted today! He’s okay, right? He’d listen to us when we said to go to Momma for any advice, wouldn’t he?

I text him back:

Connor: Likewise, babe. I don’t know how your Mom’s did this with you, Callie, Jesus, Mariana and Jack, but I can’t even give all my attention to the team. At least when you were there, you had Lena as the VP. And yes, I think he’d listen to us and go to Lena. You need to breathe, babe.

Jude: Thanks for the reminder. I hope you’re right about BC. A piece of me knows he’s probably perfectly fine, but I just can’t help but to think about it. I only have one home visit scheduled for today, so I think I’ll pick him up when he gets out.

Connor: Okay, babe. You should text him and let him know. I’ll probably come home early too. I don’t know if I can do a full day here. And, what you described? What we’re both feeling? It’s a part of parenthood.

Jude: I know it is. I just keep thinking about how nervous I was when I started at Anchor Beach, and how you helped me through that. I wish we could do that for him…

Connor: I know, babe. It’s understandable. You were in his shoes. We have to trust that BC can handle himself. He hasn’t survived the foster system without getting a thick skin, you know.

Jude: I know. It’s silly, but I still worry. Is it bad that I love the kid after only two weeks?

Connor: Listen to me, babe. It’s not silly. And, no, it isn’t bad to love him. He’s very quickly stealing my heart too.

I can almost hear Jude laughing as he types the reply:

Jude: Damn, I have some competition now!

Connor: You know what I meant! But I’m glad you I was able to make you laugh. 

Jude: How did you know I was?

Connor: Because I know you, babe. Now text Braden, and I’m going to try and power through these analytics reports compiled by the scouting department so I can come home early.

Jude: True enough. And I will. I’ll see you at home. Love you!

Connor: Love you, too!

I put my phone on vibrate and get back to my work, checking the reports, watching game tape and running background checks before I write my own thoughts. Of course, that’s difficult to due when thoughts of Braden and Jude waiting for me back home are dominating my brain at the moment. 

I will myself to concentrate. ‘You’ll see them soon,’ I say to myself.  
*****  
When the last of the reports is finished, I delegate the rest of my duties to my team, before picking the reports up heading into the GM’s office to let him know that I’m leaving.

“Hello, Connor,” he greets me. “Are those the analytics reports I asked you and the rest of the front office to evaluate?”

“Yes sir,” I tell him. “I finished all of them.”

He arches an eyebrow. “Really? By yourself?”

“Yes, sir!” I say.

He indicates the corner of his desk. “Set them here, and take a seat.”

“Yes, sir,” I repeat, promptly following the orders given to me. 

He looks at the first report. “We have the first pick in the draft this year,” he says, eyes scanning the page. “We have to make sure we choose right. We’re a small-budget team; we don’t have the luxury of spending big in free agency. As my Assistant General Manager, I’m sure you know that already.”

“Yes, sir,” I tell him. “You’ve kept me well-informed about our fiscal situation. We don’t have the luxury of spending like some of our rivals in the division, or in the state even. I’ve talked to our scouts though, and they are confident that we will have the right candidate for you to select on the day of.”

“Good to hear!” he says. “How are you and Jude doing?”

“Fine, sir,” I say. “We just got engaged a few weeks ago. Jude’s sister is coming over this weekend to help us get started with the planning.”

He looks up from the page. “That’s wonderful! Congratulations. You two make a lovely couple.”

“Thank you, sir,” I say. “How is are your wife and children doing?”

“Fine, thank you,” he tells me. “Jennifer is busy looking after James, and Kevin is in the 5th grade now.”

“That’s great, sir,” I offer.

“It is,” he agrees. “I see here that your background check revealed some behavioral issues on Meyer. He’s the top prospect, basically the lock by most experts to be picked by us. Is there anything that would cause us some headaches later on?”

“Well, sir,” I intone. “If I’m honest, any kind of behavioral issues are troublesome, but there were also reports of him showing up drunk to practices and press briefings. Jude’s brother Brandon, his dad was an alcoholic, and it affected Brandon’s relationship with him for a long time. He’s good now, Mike is, but he told me to be wary of anyone with alcohol-related red flags. They’re unpredictable, and eventually, it will get to the point where they can’t control it. Meyer is the best talent on the board by far, and I’m all for giving the benefit of the doubt to a player with a past, but we need to be sure that he’s in a good place if we do that. I’d personally recommend that we send scouts to his combine and bring him in for an interview before we make any decisions.”

“I see,” he says. “That’s very wise. It’s always sad to see such a talent go to waste over an addiction like that.”

“It is,” I nod. “I’ve seen many a talented player in this league lose everything because their addiction becomes their life. Jude’s seen it in some of the biological parents of his kids. We need to be 100% sure that Meyer is on the right track again, and that he is the right fit with the values of our team before you make the selection.”

He looks me in the eye. “What if you were to make the selection?” he asks.

My eyebrows furrow. “Pardon?”

“What if you make the selection?” he repeats.

“But how could I?” I ask. “I’m not the GM.”

“You could be,” he tells me, before picking up the phone and dialing an extension.

I listen to his end of the conversation. “I just told Stevens. You can come into the office now.”

I hear the door swing and turn to see the owner of the team striding in. I immediately stand, offering my hand. “Hello, sir!” I greet.

“So you’re the Assistant GM that Mark here has been telling me all about. That right?”

“I suppose it would be, sir,” I tell him. “I’m Connor Stevens.”

“Pleasure to meet you, Connor,” he says. “I believe this is the first we’ve met?”

“Yes sir, it is,” I confirm.

“Well you and I are going to be getting to know each other very well,” he says. “I’m promoting Mark here to President of Baseball Operations.”

“Congratulations!” I tell Mark, before turning my attention back to the owner. “Sir, all due respect, but I don’t see what that has to do with me.”

“Really, Stevens?” Mark asks me. “To think I talked you up as my fastest rising executive. You’ve only been with us 2 years after you got out of college. You’re already the Assistant GM and now I’m being promoted to President of Baseball Ops and you honestly need our #1 boss here to tell you what that has to do with you?”

I look at him quizzically, before the light bulb finally goes off. “No, way,” I say, covering my hand with my mouth.

“I think he’s got it, Bob,” Mark says to the owner. “Why don’t you make it official?”

The owner faces me, extracts a document from inside his suit jacket. “Connor Stevens, I am officially promoting you to the GM position, effective tomorrow. Wear your best suit tomorrow, and get your fiancé Jude to take work off. Something tells me he’ll want to be here for your introductory press conference. All you have to do now is sign the contract.”

Let me just say, I’ve never grabbed a pen so quickly in my entire life.

“Congratulations, Connor,” Mark and Bob chorus. 

“Thank you,” I say breathlessly, the gravity of my new position not quite setting in yet.

Bob shakes my hand and proceeds to stand, making his way to the door. “I look forward to working with you very closely, Connor,” he says. “Please don’t let me down.”

“I look forward to it as well, sir,” I say sincerely. “And I won’t. Can my foster son come to the press conference too?”

“Absolutely,” he says. “I had no idea you and your fiancé were fostering a child. That’s very good of you.”

“Thank you sir,” I say. “He’s been with us for two weeks. He loves baseball. I’m sure he wouldn’t want to miss seeing an actual executive press conference, especially this one.”

Bob laughs. “I’d imagine,” he says. “Congratulations again, Connor.”

With that he’s out the door. I turn back to Mark. “So, Mr. President…” I trail off.

“So, Mr. General Manager…” he replies.

“Can I head out early today?” I ask.

Mark nods. “Sure, go be with your family. Celebrate tonight. You’re going to hit the ground running right after the presser tomorrow morning.”

“I know I will,” I tell him. “Thank you.”

I hasten from the office—My new office.

The first thing I do upon my exit is call Jude. 

“Hey, babe,” he answers.

“Hi,” I say, breathing shallow.

“Con?” he asks worriedly. “Are you okay? You sound winded."

“I’m fine,” I assure him. “Never been better, actually. You won’t believe what just happened! I don’t even believe what just happened.”

“Connor,” Jude says. “I need you to calm down, okay?”

I take a few deep breaths, slowing my heart rate.

“Good,” he says. “Now start from the beginning and tell me everything…”

*****  
It turns out, Jude and BC had planned on going to dinner tonight. BC had asked if we could when Jude had picked him up from Anchor Beach. Jude had agreed, so I found myself wearing casual clothing and sitting in a diner that Jude and I always frequented after I came back from LA. At present, I was listening to BC describe his day.

“I literally ran into a girl as soon as I swung open the door. He name is Marina. I found out we have math and science class together.”

I turn to Jude. “That statement takes you back, doesn’t it?” I ask.

“Oh, yeah!” he laughs, before settling his features into a nostalgic smile. 

“What are you two talking about?” BC asks curiously. 

“How you met Marina is how I met Connor,” Jude informs him. “We also had math and science together.”

“Wow!” he says.

“Yeah,” I agree. “Do you like this Marina girl?”

The blush that colors his cheeks tells Jude and I all we need to know. We grin goofily.

“BC’s got a crush!” we chorus.

“Oh, my God!” he says. “Can you two please not? Hey congrats Connor on becoming GM of the team!” he tries to deflect.

“Nice try,” I tell him. “Now spill!”

“I met a girl, who I find pretty,” he huffs. “I know you two are my foster parents, but must you torture me so?”

Jude and I exchange a look, before turning back to our foster sin with devilish grins.

“Yes,” he and I chorus.

BC sighs. “There’s nothing I can do to stop you two, is there?”

“Nope!” I tell him.

“Just great,” he mumbles, sourly, causing Jude and I to laugh.

That’s how the rest of the dinner remains. The three of us laughing, talking and eating. The talking and laughing continue out into the parking lot of the restaurant until I notice Jude isn’t laughing. 

“What is it, babe?” I ask curiously. “What’s wrong?” 

He doesn’t get a reply in before I hear a voice that freezes my blood cold. A voice I haven’t heard in nearly 10 years. A voice I never wanted to hear again.

“Hello, Connor. Jude.”

I hand Braden the cars keys. “Get in the car, lock the doors and stay there, BC,” I tell him. 

“But—“ he starts to reply.

“Trust me, okay?” I tell him. “You don’t need to hear this conversation… or see it. I’ll explain later, I promise. Just do it.”

He nods, running to the car. Once the door is shut and locked, I turn back to face the figure behind the voice.

“Hello… Dad.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> My first cliffhanger! Wow, does it bring back some memories. I still remember writing it like it was yesterday. I was so scared that people would hate that I ended it on the note that I did. I'm very curious to hear your thoughts it though.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	9. Chapter 8

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Father and son meet for the first time in years as Connor faces Adam...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry about the cliffhanger last chapter! Hopefully this chapter will be satisfactory for those who wanted to see what happened. Happy reading, everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I lay claim to are my OC’s Braden (BC) and Marina, as well as any characters I wish to create and insert into future chapters of this story

Connor and I face Adam. This is the first time I’ve seen him since the day I hugged him all of those years ago. He apologized to me for “not getting it,” and I felt a glimmer of hope for him. The man literally had nothing left to lose. His wife had divorced him and Connor had left him for LA. I was hopeful that losing everything he had ever cared about would show him the error of his ways.

I guess now, I’ll finally found out. I twine my fingers with Connor, giving his hand a reassuring squeeze.

“What do you want?” Connor asks him.

“I heard you were being promoted to GM of your team, I’m proud of you,” he says. “I never even knew you were working in baseball.”

“Well, I am,” Connor snaps. “I count it as the one good thing you ever gave me.”

Adam winces. “I guess I deserve that,” he says, looking down.

“Damn right you do!” Connor thunders. “And now you say you’re proud of me? After 10 years? Where was this man 10 years ago? When did you become so emotional, because you sure as hell never were back then!”

“Connor!” I snap, turning his head and forcing him to look at me. “I need you to breathe, babe. I know you’re upset, I know you’re angry. I understand, but you need to calm down.”

I feel my words sink in to him. He inhales and exhales, relaxing. “Good, babe,” I say, ghosting my lips over his in a gentle kiss. “Now let’s just hear him out, okay?”

Connor sighs, rubs his hand over his face and looks Adam dead in the eye. In a role reversal from what I previously observed 10 years ago, Connor’s eyes were now fearless, while Adam’s held nothing but fear. “You have 10 minutes. Starting now,” he says to Adam. 

Adam inhales and exhales. “I guess the most important thing I need to say right now is that I’m sorry. I treated you both so poorly back then. Jude, I judged you where I had no right too. Connor, I was your father. I was supposed to guide you, and yet, I let you down when you needed me most.”

“As nice as it is to hear that, Adam,” I intone. “And as much as I mean you believe it, as much, if not more so than you did back then, you surely can’t have been expecting us to take you for your word, and forgive you immediately.”

“I know that, I know you have no reason to trust me, or even to be listening to me, but I felt like I needed to say that right off the bat.”

“Well, you’re too little, too late with that one,” Connor scoffs. “You’re forgetting I know how good of an actor you are, old man. I’ve heard you say all of these things to me before. Why is now any different? How do I know you’re not still acting?”

Adam wipes a tear from his eye. “I’m not. I swear. I know you’ve heard it all before, but it’s different this time. I spent some time out in Seattle. I’m remarried now, and we’ve come back to San Diego. I want to make amends with you two. I don’t want to go to my grave regretting that I pushed my son away because of something that I now realize is an existential part of him.”

“As much as I appreciate the sentiment, I have no trust in your words,” Connor says.

“I’m prepared to back it up,” Adam retorts. He motions out of sight, and a woman in her mid-fifties steps up beside him. “If you only let me try.”

“I’m guessing you’re his wife?” Connor says, addressing the woman. 

The woman nods, extending her hand. “I’m Jan,” she offers, nervously. 

“Connor Stevens,” Connor replies, shaking her hand. “God knows why you picked him, but Jude and I want to thank you for your sacrifice.”

I laugh. I’m typically the sassy one of the two of us, but Connor can more than hold his own in that department, as he is amply demonstrating right now.

“I’m sorry if that offended you,” I offer to Jan. “He gets like this when he gets nervous.”

She dismisses it. “Please, don’t worry about it. I understand. I’m guilty by association until proven innocent. I wouldn’t expect anything less.”

“Okay, then,” I say. 

“So you’re okay with my sexuality now?” Connor quizzes Adam. 

“I’ve accepted it,” he confirms. 

“And you’d be okay if I told you that Jude and I were engaged?” he continues.

I feel Adam staring intently at my right hand. His eyes widen, as he takes in the ring glistening in on my finger in the moonlight. Instinctively, I put my hand behind my back.

Adam sighs. “If you’re really happy,” he says, focusing on Connor again. “Then I guess I’m okay with that. Who was that kid you sent to your car?”

“That kid, Adam,” I snap. “Is named Braden. He’s our foster son. We’ve been fostering him for about two weeks now.”

“Oh, how lovely!” Jan squeals, “What is it you do, Jude?”

“I’m a Social Worker,” I reply. “I got a call the day after our engagement saying that a kid needed an emergency placement. That kid was Braden.”

“Oh,” she says. “Adam told me his son’s boyfriend had been in foster care. I’m so sorry about that dear. It’s good that you’re using your experiences there to help other kids.”

“Can we meet him?” Adam asks, eyes sparkling.

“OVER MY DEAD BODY!” Connor screams. “You think after the hell you put me through you can just show up here, take credit for my success and ask to meet my foster son? Not a chance.”

“I mean no harm, Connor,” Adam says. “I understand you want to protect him. I’d just like to meet him.”

“Oh?” Connor says incredulously. “You really expect me to believe you don’t want to poison him with your twisted views of masculinity? That’s fucking rich!”

“I know this will take time, Connor,” Adam sighs. “I’m willing to be patient. I just want you to be open-minded and not hold a grudge. I have changed.”

“He has,” Jan intones. “I’ll vouch for it. I would never marry someone with the beliefs that Adam once held.”

“As nice as it is that you’re willing to do that,” Connor regards her. “I’m pretty sure that’s what wives are supposed to say about their husbands in this situation. Please forgive me for finding it hard to believe my father when he says that, or to trust you to be honest with me.”

“Like I said,” Jan tells him. “I’d react the same way if I was in your shoes. I know this is a lot to take in.”

“You’re telling me,” Connor says testily. “I’m mean, damn it, Dad! Why now? If I hadn’t been promoted to GM of my team, would you even be here? What are you after? Money?”

“I’m here to make amends,” Adam states. “Just like I said. I want you back in my life.”

Connor looks at him skeptically. Even I see that Adam means that. “It’s going to take time. But, I’ll see if we can repair this. I’d love BC to have grandparents.”

“BC?” Jan questions. “I thought you said his name was Braden?”

“It is,” I inform her. “But Connor and I have nicknames for each other, so I thought we should give Braden one of his own. He actually likes BC a little better, so we use that mostly.”

“Duly noted,” Adam says. “And thank you, son. You’re a bigger man than most. I don’t know if I would have the strength to forgive me if I were in your shoes.”

“You’re welcome,” Connor says stiffly. “Don’t call me, I’ll call you.”

“Got it,” Adam nods. 

“Now if you excuse me, I have one of the biggest days of my life tomorrow, so we need to go home and get BC in bed.”

“Okay,” Adam says. “Goodnight, son.”

Connor walks to the car. I stop Jan and Adam one more time.

“Listen,” I say. “I have to go make sure my fiancé is okay. Damn it, you really sprung this on him, Adam. How did you even know we were here?”

“I used to see you sitting in the booths before I moved to Seattle. I had a feeling you just might be here.”

“Good guess,” I say. “But, please don’t do anything like this again. It’s bad enough that you did this at all, with absolutely no warning after 10 fucking years, but on tonight, of all nights? He probably won’t get much sleep, and all three of us know he needs it for tomorrow.”

“I’m sorry,” Adam says, eyes fixed to the ground.

“Listen to what Connor said,” I tell him. “From now on, we’ll call you. His introductory press conference is tomorrow. I don’t suggest showing up, if you know what’s good for you. But you can watch it on the team’s website, if you want.”

“I appreciate that,” Adam says. “Thank you, Jude.”

I nod. “Goodnight.”

I walk back to the car to see Connor in tears, BC holding his hand.

“Hey, babe,” I coo. “It’s okay. Let it out. You’re okay.”

I wrap my arms tightly around him, and he sobs into my neck.

“Why now?” he asks, sobbing into my neck. “Why?”

“Shush, babe,” I hush him. “Don’t speak. Just let everything out. I’ve got you.”

And I do. I hold him while he sobs out choked words, and lets out blood-curdling screams in anger and frustration.

BC is looking on from the back seat, wide-eyed. He’s never seen Connor like this.

“Later,” I mouth to him. 

He nods, and once Connor is calmed down sufficiently, I drive the three of us back to our apartment.

We get BC into bed, and he hugs Connor, whispering something in his ear. Connor kisses his forehead afterwards.

“Thank you, son,” he says. 

“I still want to know who that was!” he calls as Connor and I exit this bedroom and close the door behind us.

“I’ll tell you after the press conference, okay?”

“Okay,” BC responds.

Connor and I move to our bedroom, and get in bed. I spoon him tonight, instead of the other way around.

He turns in my arms. “Make me forget,” he says.

“Are you sure?” I ask him. “You’re not thinking clearly right now.”

“I need this, Jude,” he whispers, breath ghosting my neck, causing goosebumps to settle over my skin. “Please.”

“Okay,” I say.

I proceed to make him forget, at least for a little while. We fall into a dreamless sleep afterwards.

All is quiet in the Adams-Foster/Stevens apartment, until Connor and I are woken up by a piercing, terrified screech coming from Braden’s bedroom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, I know, ANOTHER cliffhanger! I had honestly forgotten how cliffhanger-happy I went for a while, but it seemed like the best place to end the chapter while still keeping the suspense. I hope you enjoyed reading.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	10. Chapter 9

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Our couple comfort BC, and reminisce on their romance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I promise this chapter does NOT end on a cliffhanger. That said, this is the longest chapter in the entire story in word count, page number and how long it took me to complete initially, so I hope you all are able to enjoy it. This chapter has probably my favourite ending of any chapter in this story too, so... Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership to are my OC’s Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, and Jan Stevens, in addition to any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future. This chapter includes an idea suggested by the amazing Nuke Rose, who’s Jude and Connor stories are the best I’ve ever read. I’ve also used ideas given to me by user Lykos Lupus for a few of the flashbacks in this chapter. Thank you both for the ideas.

Jude and I are immediately on our feet, and alert. We sprint to BC’s room, practically busting through the door and hurriedly flipping the light switch in our panic to make sure he’s okay.

We find him thrashing violently.

“No!” he screams. “No! Stop! Please!”

Jude and I go to his bedside. I grasp his shoulders. “BC!” I shout, shaking his shoulder. “Wake up. It’s a nightmare. You’re here with Jude and I. You’re safe.”

He continues to thrash, nearly connecting his fist to my face in his terrified attempts to shake off whatever (or whomever) is terrifying him in his sleep.

“Jude, maybe you can help him more than I can. You’ve had nightmares like this before.”

“I can try,” he says, clearly frayed from seeing our foster son like this. I switch places with him, and he attempts to wake BC.

“BC,” he says, as calmly as he can manage. “It’s Jude. I know you are scared of what’s appearing behind those beautiful blue eyes of yours, but I also know you’re a fighter. We foster kids are have to be to survive. I need to fight whatever or whoever is keeping you down. Connor and I are right here. You’re safe. Fight, BC! Fight!”

“GET OFF OF ME, YOU WORTHLESS PIECE OF SHIT!” BC screams, foot connecting with Jude’s stomach, causing him to double over, clutching his stomach.

“Babe!” I call, as he nearly falls over the bed.

“I’m okay,” he says, righting himself. “That’s right, BC!” he encourages. “Fight!”

A knee flies up, which Jude barely manages to dodge. BC pushes hard, and rolls over, punching the mattress a few times.

“BC,” Jude says. “You won. Stop.”

BC stops mid-punch. 

“Good,” Jude says soothingly. “Now roll back over.”

BC does as directed. 

“Good,” Jude approves. “Now fight the darkness and open your eyes.”

After a few minutes, BC’s eyes flutter open and he looks around, breathing heavy.

“Jude? Connor?” he asks, squinting against the light.

“Yeah, buddy,” I say, rubbing his knee soothingly. “It’s us. You had a nightmare.”

He sits up, and immediately pulls us into as tight a hug as he can manage. His body shakes with sobs, and wetness soaks through my shirt.

“It’s okay, buddy,” I tell him. “We’ve got you.”

“You’re safe,” Jude adds, rubbing soothing circles onto his back. 

He clings even tighter. “Please don’t let me go,” he says, brokenly.

“Never,” Jude and I chorus. 

“Good,” he breathes, relaxing against us. 

Jude and I just sit there, holding him for a long while. He eventually pulls away, wiping tears away. “I’m sorry,” he says, sounding small.

“Don’t apologize,” I say.

“But you have your press conference tomorrow,” he says. “And here you are, comforting me on the eve of the biggest day of your career, just because I can’t keep my thoughts from drifting down memory lane.”

I laugh. “I could care less about that,” I say, grabbing his hand and stroking circles onto the back of it. “You’re my son, you come first.”

He starts crying at that. “No one’s ever cared about me like that before,” he says. 

“Well, get used to it,” Jude responds. “Connor and I are all about family. Connor never had much of one, and I one who took me in when they could have just let me get shuffled back into the system. They didn’t have the room, but they did it anyway. I owe everything I am to them.”

“Why don’t we get you a fresh shirt and go make you some warm milk?” I ask BC.

“That sounds great,” he nods. 

Jude goes to grab a pajama top out of BC’s dresser. BC lifts his shirt over his head, depositing it across the room. “Nothing but net!” he cheers as it sails into his laundry basket.

It’s so good to hear that laugh again. I smile at his antics, reaching out to tousle his hair lightly. 

When Jude comes back, he hands BC the shirt, which he dutifully slips over his head. “Thanks,” he nods. 

“You’re welcome, bud,” Jude tells him. “Now let’s go sit in the living room and I’ll get that warm milk started for you.

The three of us trudge out to the living room. BC and I get situated under a blanket. Jude goes to make the drink he promised.

I flip on the television, and find ESPN. I can’t hide my surprise, when, after a few minutes, BC cuddles into me.

He notices. “Is this okay?” he asks.

I don’t hesitate in nod. “It’s fine,” I say, pressing a kiss to his forehead. 

We stay like this until Jude comes back, holding a steaming cup of milk. “Be careful,” he says, handing it to BC. “It’s very hot.”

“Thank you,” he says, sipping carefully. “This is good.”

“It’s supposed to help you with sleep,” Jude tells him. “I prefer tea myself, but you have strict instructions from the doctor not to have any excess caffeine than what he prescribed. Maybe when you’re caffeine levels are back to normal, you can try it.”

“I’d like that,” he nods.

The three of us sit, curled together under the blanket. I turn the TV off. “So, I’m not going to force you to tell us what the nightmare was about, but Jude and I would appreciate it.”

“It’s okay,” BC says. “I’ll tell you. You have more right than most to know.”

“Whenever you’re ready, bud,” Jude says encouragingly. 

He inhales and exhales, sitting up. “My foster care story starts at age 8. I survived a car crash that killed both my parents. It very nearly killed me, too. I was in hospital for two weeks after I woke up from a coma. The driver had been drunk, and was driving erratically. Because of him, I lost the two people who loved me more than anything in the world. He died too. There was no justice, but he left behind a wife and kids. She was so torn up. Her and her kids visited me while I was recovering. She apologized on his behalf, and I told her I forgave her husband. It was the hardest thing I’ve ever had to do, but nothing would come from me hating someone who was already gone. She hugged me, wished me luck, and her kids hugged me too, they were twin boys. They were only two years old, and, according to their mom, a spitting image of her husband. I wished her luck, and told her to raise her son’s, as he would have wanted her to. She gave me her name, phone number and address if I ever wanted to get back in contact. I have it in my night table.”

“We can certainly see to it that you get back in touch with her and her kids if you want,” Jude intones.

BC nods. “I’d like to,” he says. “They live in Los Angeles.”

“I’ll get on it later,” Jude promises. “You’re doing really good. Do you want a break?”

“No,” BC says firmly. “If I stop, I’ll lose my nerve.”

“Fair enough,” Jude nods. “Continue when you’re ready.”

BC inhales and exhales. “My first two foster homes were good. I was well taken care of. I was moved though, because the first couple was moving for a job opportunity in Europe. The second couple was going to adopt me, but they ended up getting divorced and the adoption fell through because of that. My third foster home was the first time I had siblings. That was the foster home I was first abused in. That was tonight’s nightmare. The couple had a son who was 15 while I was 10. He was very jealous of me. He was used to being an only child and was the center of his parents’ universe. He didn’t like sharing, and if I ever so much as breathed and he didn’t like the way I did it, he would pin me down and start wailing on me. His parents had no clue. My gym teacher saw the bruises and reported them. I was removed, and the kid was sent to military school by the parents, who apologized and said that if they had any idea what was happening, they would have stepped in. I only nodded, before the social worker dragged me away to a group home, where the abuse was worse. The other boys were bigger and stronger than I was. I fought back, but there was only so much I could do. I intentionally broke rules until I was removed. They sent me to live with my fourth family. The foster father was awful, but the wife was okay. She was too scared to speak against him so, whenever he would hit me, she would wince but stand there looking relieved, as if she was glad it was I who he channeled his anger into instead of her. He eventually got too mad and slugged me where people could see it. I was removed, and taken to my fifth home in 4 years, where you two came and rescued me.”

“Wow,” I breathe. “You’ve had it rough. It makes what my Dad did to me sound like nothing.”

“That man from earlier,” BC asks. “That was your father?”

“Yes,” I confirm. “That it was. I hadn’t seen or heard from him since I left San Diego for Los Angeles.”

“Why did you leave?” BC asks.

“My father was homophobic,” I say bluntly. “I couldn’t live with someone who hurt me in that way. He tried to keep me from Jude before allowing us to finally begin dating after I got shot in the foot, literally. He later caught us in a... compromising position and freaked out. I left soon after because I knew he would never change.”

“How did you end up getting shot in the foot?” he asks. 

“That still is one of the worst nights in my life,” Jude shivers.

“I know, babe,” I say, kissing his temple, before inhaling and exhaling.

“We were out with my girlfriend at the time, Daria, and our friend Taylor. I had been dating Daria as a cover so my Dad would let me hang out with Jude. We were playing a prank on some girl involving toilet paper, and Taylor suggested that we sneak into her house and drink alcohol. Taylor’s dad thought we were intruders, grabbed his gun and came down the stairs. He aimed the gun right at Jude’s chest and fired. I tackled him to the ground and the bullet burrowed in my foot.”

“My hero,” Jude intones, nuzzling my neck. “That was still one of the worst nights of my life, though. Seeing you lying there like that, breathing shallow, blood everywhere, in such pain.”

“I’ve never felt pain like that in my life,” I admit.

*Flashback*

“Connor!” Jude screams, immediately on his feet and at Connor’s side.

“Ah!” Connor screams. “It hurts, Jude!”

Jude jumps up, rips the tablecloth and ties it around Connor’s foot.

“Gah!” Connor breathes, gritting his teeth.

“What the hell is going on here?” Taylor’s dad asks.

“Sir, that’s not important!” Jude snaps. “Call 911 now! Or do you not notice that my best friend in the entire world is bleeding profusely from the hole you shot through his foot?”

Daria kneels next to Connor. “Baby,” she cries softly, hiding her face in her hands.

It’s quiet for a few minutes, before Connor speaks up, saying something incoherent.

Daria removes her head from her hands. “What’s that? I’m right here, Connor. I’m not going to leave you.”

“Jude,” Connor croaks. “Don’t… don’t leave me.”

Jude repositions himself so that Connor’s head is in his lap. He retakes his hand, which Connor squeezes in a vice grip. 

“I’m not going anywhere, Connor,” Jude assures him. “I’ll never leave you.”

“Good,” Connor smiles, pain contorting it quickly into a grimace. 

Daria looks bewildered. Connor was her boyfriend, and yet, it was Jude he didn’t want to leave him? Where was the logic in that?

Connor speaking again interrupts her thoughts. “I’m slipping,” he says, before his eyes close.

“No, Connor!” Jude cries. “Stay with me damn it! Open your eyes! The ambulance is almost here!”

Connor doesn’t answer. Only the rise and fall of his chest confirms he’s still alive.

Taylor’s dad comes back in with the paramedics, who put Connor on a stretcher, and begin wheeling him out to the ambulance, Jude still attached to his hand.

The ambulance careens away, sirens blaring, heading for Sacred Cross. Jude keeps his promise. He never leaves Connor until the doctor's force him from the emergency bay, and for the life of him, he keeps Connor's hand in his until he can no longer do so.

*End Flashback*

“Wow!” BC exclaims, before looking across my body at Jude. “I can see why that’s one of the worst nights of your life." 

“Yeah,” Jude huffs. “And that wasn’t the end of it. I went toe-to-toe with Adam Stevens."

“Okay!” BC laughs. “This I need to hear.”

I see Jude get lost in the memory.

*Flashback*

“What are you doing here?” Adam asks. “I told you Mom I don’t want you hanging around Connor.”

“I know,” Jude says, steeling himself. “I want to see him. I want to see my friend, and I’m not leaving until I do.”

*End Flashback*

BC looks at Jude with unconcealed awe. “You seriously did that?” he asks.

“I did,” Jude laughs. “You didn’t think I’ve gotten the way I am now overnight, did you?” he teases.

“No,” BC says. “I’m just…”

“Shocked?” Jude guesses.

“That’s one way to put it,” BC admits. “I take it you were eventually let in?” 

“Yep,” Jude says, popping the p, and grinning triumphantly. “It took my Momma to get him to cave in, but Adam eventually did. It was then that we had a very important conversation for the two of us.”

“What conversation is that?” BC asks.

“The one that made us officially boyfriends,” Jude says dreamily, snuggling into me. I decide to take this one.

*Flashback*

The door to the hospital room opens, Adam Stevens in the doorway. He steps aside to reveal one Jude Adams-Foster, who steps forward tentatively, looking back at Adam the whole time. Adam gives a tense nod to Jude, and closes the door behind him.

Connor’s face lights up. When Jude reaches him, he takes his hand, stroking the back of it gently, before noticing that Jude’s nails are painted.

“What’s this?” he asks.

Jude smiles slightly. “War paint.”

Connor’s smiles softly, moving over in the bed. Jude hops in next to him, snuggling in. They watch TV for a while, before Jude says, “I missed you.”

“I missed you too,” Connor returns. He looks Jude right in the eye. “I’m so sorry, Jude,” he says.

Jude looks at him incredulously. “What for?”

“For leading you on and not standing up to my Dad after I kissed you in the tent. If I had come out then, like I should have, we wouldn’t be here right now, I wouldn’t have had to pretend with Daria, and we could have done this a heck of a lot more.”

Jude looks at him quizzically. “Done what a lot more?”

“This,” Connor says, closing the distance and pressing his lips to Jude’s in a chaste kiss.

When he finally pulls back, Jude is an interesting shade of red, shocked out of his mind. He touches his lips to find them still tingling. “You kissed me,” he says.

“I did,” Connor laughs. “Did you not want me to?”

Jude gives him an epic glare. “You know I did,” he says. “But what about Daria? And what does that make us?”

Connor pales. He had completely forgotten about that eternal pain in his side. She wasn’t a bad girl, very sweet actually, but she had been very clingy, and very possessive of him. If he ever went to hang out with just Jude, she would try to make him stay with her. 

“I’ll take care of her, Jude,” Connor says firmly. “And… it makes us whatever you want to be. We’ll always be best friends, but this… it feels like…”

“More?” Jude supplies.

“Yeah, it’s felt like more for a long time, with you,” Connor says, causing Jude to blush.

“Stop it!” he says. 

“You’re too cute,” Connor coos, leaning forward to kiss Jude’s nose. 

Jude’s nose scrunches at the contact. If possible, he turns an even deeper shade of crimson.

“I’m still waiting, Connor Stevens,” he says.

“Uh oh,” Connor pales. “Did I forget something?”

“You may have forgotten to ask me a certain question that someone interested in another person usually asks by now. And typically before the first kiss, so you’re already behind schedule."

Connor blushes. “Jude?” he asks nervously.

“Yes, Connor?” Jude responds, mock-innocently.

“Will you be my boyfriend?” Connor squeaks out.

Jude looks Connor right in the eye. “I thought you’d never ask,” he says softly.

Every other kiss they’ve shared, Connor is the one who initiated it. This time though, it’s Jude who leans in first.

*End Flashback*

“Wow!” BC swoons. “That’s so romantic. You two haven’t changed at all.”

“I guess not,” Jude and I laugh.

“What’s this about a tent incident?” our foster son asks.

Jude and I groan. That is what changed it all, but it was right after everything went to hell. It is a beautiful memory, but one that holds a lot of negative weight to it as well, because of how I handled the aftermath.

*Flashback*

It’s the second night of the Anchor Beach Charter School Seventh Grade Camping Trip. Jude and Connor are sitting, reading comics and eating candy.

“Hey, Jude?” Connor asks.

“What?” Jude replies irritably, not even bothering to look up from his comic, as he shoves another handful of candy in his mouth. 

“Look at me, please?” Connor asks. 

Jude sighs, looking up. “What?”

“I’m sorry… about my Dad, I really miss you, you know,” Connor tells him.

“That’s great,” Jude snaps, giving Connor the impression that it’s anything but.

“Jude… don’t be like that,” Connor pleads.

“Then how should I act?” Jude questions. “You tell me, because you seem to know everything, right?”

Connor winces. “I deserve that,” he says.

“DAMN RIGHT YOU DO!” Jude thunders, before looking back down at his comic. “I’m not even mad about what your Dad said, anyways.”

“Then what are you mad about, exactly?” Connor questions.

“You LIED to me, Connor!” Jude snaps. “That was the worst pain I’ve ever felt in my life, and I’ve been in some pretty horrific foster homes.”

Connor looks bewildered. He crawls over until he is facing his friend. “Jude…” he says, reaching out to stroke his cheek.

“Do you know how that makes me feel, Connor?” Jude asks, flinching away from the touch as if he’d been burned. “You’re the best—and only—friend I’ve ever really had. I told you that I didn’t want to be anybody’s secret, and yet, our friendship didn’t mean enough to you for you to respect that.”

Connor can feel it. He’s about to lose Jude. He’s about to lose the absolute best friend he’s ever had. 

Without thinking, he leans forward and presses his lips to Jude’s. 

When they part, Jude’s eyes are wide.

“I’m sorry, okay?” Connor says. “Just please, please, don’t give up on me.”

Jude pulls Connor tight to his body. “Never,” he replies

*End Flashback*

“So, that was your first kiss?” BC asks. 

“Yes,” Jude and I chorus.

“And you’ve been together since after the hospital conversation?” he asks. “No break-ups?”

“We came close,” I admit. “More than a few times, actually. But no, we’ve never broken up.”

“That’s amazing,” BC says. “You’re relationship has lasted longer than most marriages do these days. And you’re not even married, yet!”

“That’s very true!” I say. “Are you getting tired?”

BC yawns. “Yeah, a little.”

“You can choose three more stories, then it’s bed time,” Jude announces. “Which would you like to hear?”

BC contemplates this. “Your first date, the first time Jude went down to LA, and… you played baseball in school, right Connor?”

“That’s right,” I confirm.

“Baseball is typically dominated by Alpha Male personalities, so I’d like to hear how you and Jude came out to them.”

“Okay then,” I tell him. “We’ll start with that one first.”

*Flashback*

“Is it true?” a voice asks.

I look up to see the captain of the baseball team, Gryphon, peering down at me. The rest of the team is on his heels.

“Is what true?” I ask.

“You and Foster?” he supplies.

I steel myself. “And if it is?” I snap defensively. “You have something to say about it?”

“Yeah, congratulations,” Gryphon intones. “We’ve all seen how you light up around him.”

“I love him,” I say to the team. “I haven’t told him yet, but I do. I really do.”

“Well, that much is obvious!” Gryphon laughs. 

Jude chooses this moment to make his appearance. “Hi, babe!” he says, kissing my cheek.

“Hi,” I return. “We have an audience.”

Jude freezes, looking up to see my entire team staring at us. “Oh, my God. I’m so sorry, Connor,” he says.

“You don’t have to be nervous Foster,” Gryphon laughs. “Connor told us right before you showed up.”

The tension drains from Jude’s body. “Good,” he breathes out.

“Team, meet my boyfriend, Jude,” I introduce. “Jude, meet the team.”

*End Flashback*

“Wow, you lucked out,” BC points out.

“I know, they were so supportive, it’s too bad I lost touch with most of them, but that’s life.”

“Very true!” he agrees. “Now tell me about your first date!”

“Well,” Jude intones. “It was kind of a re-do.”

“How so?” BC questions.

*Flashback*

“It’s so nice to be able to do this with no other people this time!” Connor says, as they approach the theater. “I can’t wait to see this movie!”

“I’m glad you’re excited!” Jude says. “And it is nice. No Daria, no Taylor, just us…”

Jude kisses Connor chastely.

“You keep that up, and I won’t catch anything going on in the film.

Jude laughs. “Get your mind out of the gutter, Con,” he says.

“Easier said than done when you have your BOYFRIEND on your arm,” Connor admits.

They pay for their tickets and their snacks, making their way to their seats, which, coincidentally are in the back.

The lights dim. Connor reaches over, hooking his pinky through Jude’s. 

Jude laughs. “I think we can do one better than that!” he teases, twining their fingers.

Connor smiles, and faces forward to watch the movie.

*End Flashback*

“Wow, that’s so sweet!” BC coos. “A little cliché, sure, but cute.”

“You ready for the last story?” I ask.

“The first time Jude went to LA,” he nods, turning to face Jude. “I think you better take this one.”

Jude nods.

*Flashback*

Jude wakes up at 5:00 AM. Today he sees Connor for the first time since his boyfriend moved to LA.

He creeps down the stairs quietly, pours himself a glass of milk, and some cereal, and wolfs it down. He would take his time, but his mind is focused on only one thing: Connor.

He gets to hug, and cuddle and kiss Connor ALL weekend. Jude can hardly believe Connor’s mom Mary even talked Stef and Lena into letting him stay for the weekend.

He rinses his dishes off, and goes upstairs to find the perfect outfit, finding Jesus awake.

“Oh, sorry, did I wake you?” Jude asks.

“You could wake the dead, little bro,” Jesus chuckles.

“I need your help picking an outfit!” Jude says.

“Well, that’s usually Mariana’s department, but okay. Just don’t tell her!”

Jude zips his lips, and Jesus nods approvingly.

Together, they settle on a long-sleeved blue shirt, dark-wash jeans, and a belt. Jude even allows Jesus to gel his hair, and spray him with his cologne.

“Just don’t bathe me in it like last time, Zeus,” Jude warns, causing Jesus to smile at his younger brother.

Just as the two brothers are putting the final touches on Jude’s look, Stef knocks at the door. “You ready to go, love?” she asks Jude.

“More than ready!” Jude nods.

“Have fun little bro,” Jesus says. He wiggles his eyebrows. “But not TOO much fun!”

Jude blushes crimson. Jesus laughs.

He follows Stef out to her cruiser, sitting in the passenger seat.

“You excited, love?” she asks him.

“Do you even have to ASK that, Mom?” Jude asks her, incredulous.

“Fair enough,” she agrees.

The two slip into companionable silence. The only noise in the car is the crackle of Stef’s radio. Soon, they arrive at the San Diego train station.

“Be good, and call Momma and I when you get there,” she says, pressing the money for his ticket into his palm. “Thank Mary for letting you stay the weekend, keep the doors open, and don’t sleep in the same bed.”

Jude laughs and kisses Stef’s cheek, before exiting the vehicle. 

He gets his ticket at the booth, and pretty soon he is boarding the train. He watches the landscapes fly by out his window. ‘I’m coming, Connor,’ he says to himself.

*****  
Arriving in Los Angeles, Jude grabs his bag, and immediately exits the car. His fellow passengers laugh at his enthusiasm, but Jude can’t bring himself to care.

He’s immediately searching for Connor and Mary. When he spots them, he rushes forward.

Connor sees him running, and his eyes light up. He opens his arms.

Jude flies into his embrace, breathing in Connor’s familiar scent. Mary stands off to the side, letting them have their reunion.

Connor pulls back from the hug just far enough to look at Jude. “Hi, handsome,” he says. “You look nice.”

“Thanks, babe,” Jude replies, leaning forward for a kiss, which Connor is all too eager to give.

When they part, Connor says quietly: “I’m so glad you’re here.”

Jude nods. “Me, too.”

The two head out of the terminal to Mary’s house. They don’t let go of each other’s hands once.

*End Flashback*

“Wow,” BC says, yawning. “That was the best one.”

“Glad you think so,” I say. “Let’s get to bed, we have a big day tomorrow, for all of us.”

BC nods. We walk to his bedroom and tuck him in, each giving him a kiss on the forehead.

As we are about to close the door, Jude and I hear him say: “I love you, Dads.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there's the big ending! I'm very interested to hear your thoughts on this chapter. I hope you were able to enjoy it.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	11. Chapter 10

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor faces the press as he assumes the GM's chair...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you all to enjoy! Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (Jude’s colleague), Mark Wells (President of Baseball Operations) and Bob Olsen (Owner of baseball team Connor works for), as well as any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future. I forgot to mention the last three in my other disclaimers, oops. Better late than never, I suppose.

Braden and I sit side by side in the front row of the media room, wearing our best suits, and waiting anxiously for the press conference to start.

I’m honestly so proud of Connor. I remember the day he went in for his interview. He was so nervous...

*Flashback*  
Connor paces frantically in the living room. Jude sits on the couch watching him with a gaze that is equal parts love, amusement and concern. Even after all of these years, Connor still has trouble putting weight on his bad foot. It never fully recovered from essentially shattering under the impact of the bullet.

Jude finally snaps, and leaps off the couch, quickly corralling Connor, and stopping him in his tracks. He ghosts his lips over Connor’s ear, feeling goose bumps prick his flesh. His breath is hot in Connor’s ear as he says softly, “You need to stop, babe. Breathe.”

Jude feels Connor inhale and exhale against his chest. He drags him onto the couch, keeping his arms wrapped around him. The fight goes out of Connor as Jude whispers sweet nothings into Connor’s ear, and presses a kiss onto Connor’s pulse point. 

“Babe, you know it’s bad for your foot if you do that,” Jude chastises worriedly. “What is it that’s got you all worked up, hm?”

“What if they hate me?” Connor whispers, sounding small, and nuzzling into Jude’s neck.

Jude just holds Connor close for a few minutes, before angling Connor’s chin up, so that Connor’s eyes have no chance of looking anywhere else. “You need to listen to me, babe. Can you do that for me?” he asks.

Connor nods.

“Okay, good,” Jude breathes. “I know you’re nervous, but they are going to love you. I know it. Your baseball acumen is unbelievable. You just have to go in there head held high and show them who Connor Stevens is, okay? I believe in you.”

“Maybe I should just cancel,” Connor whispers.

“Absolutely not, Connor!” Jude snaps. “This is your dream, and you’re ready for this. If you cancel you’re sleeping on this couch for the next month!”

Connor snaps up, looking at Jude worriedly. “You wouldn’t!”

Jude smirks. “Are you sure about that?” he questions.

Connor huffs. “You win!” he concedes. 

“Excellent!” Jude exclaims, jumping up off the couch, and offering his boyfriend. “Let’s go get you ready, babe,” he says.

Connor takes Jude’s outstretched hand.

*End Flashback*

And now, he is here. Waiting in the wings to be officially introduced as the new GM of his team. BC and I straighten up as the moderator steps up to the microphone to begin the press conference.

“Good morning everyone, and thank you all for coming. Today, this team announces some re-shuffling in its front office ranks. But first, allow me to welcome to the stage, team owner Bob Olsen."

The entire room claps politely as the aforementioned man steps up onto the makeshift stage and takes his seat in the middle.

“Hello, everyone,” the owner says. “Today is a big day for our organization as it begins the process of moving forward from our disastrous season last year. With the goal in mind to ensure that this team is well equipped over the next several years to return to contention for a world championship, I’ve decided to make some changes to the structure of the front office. Moving up from the General Manager position is Mark Wells, who will become President of Baseball Operations.”

The aforementioned man, whom I’ve heard Connor talk about thousands of times, steps onto the stage to polite reception, taking his seat.

“Thank you, everyone,” he says, before allowing the owner to continue onward.

“Moving into Mr. Wells position as General Manager, from Assistant General Manager, is Connor Stevens,” the owner says.

Connor steps onto the stage to muted reception, which irks me. BC and I begin to clap, and he smiles at us gratefully before assuming his seat.

“Existing President of Baseball Operations Christopher Brennan has been let go, and a replacement for Mr. Stevens position is pending. We wish to thank Mr. Brennan for his years of dedicated service to our organization and would like to wish him all the best in his future endeavors. He has been a valued member of our front office for many years and he will be missed, however, it is my responsibility, as owner, to ensure that I put this team as both the best short-term and long-term situation that I can, hence why these moves were made.”

The owner looks at the moderator, who turns to the assembled crowd. “We will open the floor for questions now. Please say your name, media affiliation, the name of the person you are addressing your question to, and then you may ask your question.”

Hands shoot up. The first question is to the owner. “There has never been an LGBT executive in MLB, is Connor Stevens purely a token hire?”

I clench my hand into a fist. I expected the question, but to be so… certain… that the only reason Connor is where he finds himself now is because he is gay? Even I find that an insult.

BC notices my distress and grabs my hand, calming me down. “Breathe, Jude,” he whispers into my ear.

I inhale and exhale.

“Good,” he says. “Now let’s see what the owner’s response is.”

‘He better defend him…’ is all I can think.

“Absolutely not,” the owner says firmly. “I’m insulted that you think I would stoop to that level. Connor Stevens may be gay, yes. But his sexual orientation had absolutely nothing to do with his promotion. He is one of our top executive talents, and he rose up the ranks of this organization from a lowly intern to where he finds himself sitting today. Also, I don’t think his fiancé and his foster son, who are here today, would appreciate that comment, so I’ll have to respectfully ask that you leave the premises. Thank you.”

Security escorts the reporter out of the hall, before the owner speaks again, this time unprompted. 

“Let me take the time before we continue to make absolutely certain one fact: Connor Stevens is not a token hire. Yes, he is LGBT. But that does not define him. Mr. Wells brought him to my attention when I spoke of possibly feeling the need to get rid of Mr. Brennan. I looked through his personnel file, and he has proven to Mr. Wells and myself that he has the baseball acumen, the leadership qualities, the appreciation for advanced analytics, and the fresh perspective necessary to guide our organization into a new, more prosperous era. If I hear so much as one peep further about Connor Stevens sexual preference, I can not only assure you that I will be very cross with you, but so will his fiancé.”

A camera finds my face, broadcasting my displeased expression across the Internet, and onto every major sports network in California.

‘Great, I think to myself, before turning my attention back to the press conference, which thankfully goes smoothly.

Connor checks his nerves out the window at the owner’s statement, and I see his confident side emerge. He fields questions like a pro, from reporters asking stuff like if he’ll draft some kid named Meyer with the #1 overall pick in the draft, to if he’ll fire the manager of the team, to whom he is looking at to replace him.

Connor radiates sincerity the entire time, telling the assembled press that a decision on who to draft has not been made, that he will sit down with the manager at a later date to discuss their respective visions for the organization, and make the determination as to whether the two align, and that he’ll be looking at both internal and external candidates to fill the Assistant GM position.  
As the press conference winds down, he speaks up once more:

“I’d like to thank everyone for coming today. I would like to humbly ask the media to leave my fiancé Jude and our foster son BC out of the spotlight. I am the GM of this team, and I understand that with my position, comes times where I will have to face the music, however, my family is under no such obligation. My foster son is 12 years old and has just started at his new school. My fiancé is a former foster child-turned social worker that is very reluctant to discuss his past publicly. I’d ask that you respect their privacy. Thank you.”

I smile up at Connor, who gives me the special smile reserved for my eyes only, back to me. “I love you,” he mouths to me.

“I love you, too,” I say quietly.

The press asks for one picture of Connor, BC and I. Connor looks at Braden and I, who both nod, standing and straightening our suits out, before ascending the steps of the raised platform. I wrap my arm around Connor’s waist and each of us place a hand on BC’s shoulder.

The three of us smile widely, and the flash goes off a few times.

BC and I make our way back to our seats, and the photographer snaps photos of the owner shaking Connor’s hand as the two of them smile into the camera. The owner then does the same with the new President of Baseball Operations, before the three of them move on to the symbolic signing of the documents, which Connor had told me previously, were replicas of the originals.

We then move to the executive level of the team complex for the grand unveiling. Connor beams like a kid on Christmas morning when the maintenance person peels off golden stencils so that the door to his office reads:

Connor Stevens  
General Manager

He shakes the owner’s hand again, and the cameras flash. Then, the President of Baseball Operations gets his turn, and poses for the same photo.

I’m so proud of Connor. Only two years ago, I had to threaten him with sleeping on the couch just to get him to go to his internship interview. Now, he is the GM, and he did that on his own merits, regardless of what anyone may think.

He beams at me, and I beam back. As the press begins to filter out, the photographer who took the pictures today taps me on the shoulder, shoving a developed photo into my hands.

I gasp at it, and wave Connor over. The two of us are stunned speechless. BC snatches the photo, and promptly begins to get emotional.

“Thank you,” Connor and I chorus to the man, who simply waves and disappears.

The photo BC now holds is our first family photo.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not a lot going on in this chapter, but I hope you've enjoyed it all the same! Comments, suggestions and kudos are always welcome!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	12. Chapter 11

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> We go through a slight time-jump as BC's point-of-view makes another appearance. Later, BC comes face-to-face with a familiar face from the past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yet another chapter is here! I hope you enjoy it. Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters that I do own are my OC’s Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells and Bob Olsen, as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

It’s been a further two months since I was placed with my Dads, Jude Adams-Foster and Connor Stevens, and a lot has happened.

Marina and I have become really close. People think we’re dating, but we’re honestly not. We’re 12 years old, just starting to figure stuff like that out for the first time. The real reason we’re as close as we are is because I can actually trust her, and she’s never treated me like a foster kid. I’m just BC to her, and I have been in foster care, yes. But she doesn’t care. 

Now, if only I could get the rest of Anchor Beach not to care about that, I’d be well on my way to being popular. But most people seem to keep me at a distance. I’m damaged goods, unpredictable, and now that they know I’m being fostered by Jude and Connor, they think I’m favored by Lena, who still makes some of the best food I’ve ever tasted in my short life when the three of us go over for weekly family dinner.

Marina and I laugh over some of the stories we hear about me. There’s no truth to them, at all, but the alternative to laughing about the stupid theories is letting them get to me, and I refuse to give anyone that satisfaction.

Elsewhere, I finally met up with the woman and her kids that came to visit me in the hospital. Jude and Connor had kept their word and contacted her on my behalf. It had been 4 years since I last saw them, but they hadn’t changed much. The mother had some dark circles under her eyes, and looked a little frayed around the edges, but otherwise she looked the same as when I last saw her. 

Her twins were now 6 years old, taller, and definitely more talkative. I sat with them while Jude and Connor talked to their mother, whom they get along with quite well. We may live some distance away, but her, her sons and I will always be connected by the tragic event that took my parents and their husband and father.

I asked her if I could remain in their lives, and, after receiving permission from Jude and Connor, she agreed. We won’t see each other often, but email addresses, social media accounts, and phone numbers were exchanged.

We tentatively agreed to meet again when I get adopted. When we said goodbye, she hugged me and said that she was glad I was somewhere safe.

I’m glad to have gotten back in touch with them again. Despite the pain I still sometimes feel over the circumstance upon which we came into each other’s lives, I wouldn’t change it. 

I have a best friend, two fathers whom absolutely adore me (and each other), an extended family that has gone above and beyond to make me comfortable, and two guardian angels watching over me from above. 

I know they’d be happy for me that I have the life I have now. And someday, I know I will see them again. I look forward to that day.

But, right now, I’m enjoying my life as it has been given to me. I’m helping Callie with her Fost and Found company, Connor’s taken me to the ballpark with him a few times, and Jude is teaching me how to cook on the nights when Connor has to work late, and the two of us don’t want take out. 

They’ve started planning their wedding with Mariana. I’m going to be the ring bearer for the ceremony, which will hopefully take place within the next several months. They’ve started the adoption process to make me a permanent member of the family, but they want to be legally married before they proceed with it. It has something to do about me having one last name, or something like that.

I don’t see much of Jack these days, and those times that I do, he quickly walks in the other direction, or just sits there moping. Stef and Lena are trying to get him to realize that he will never be with Jude, but he’s completely lost it.

The only person he’ll talk to in the family for any extended period of time is Jude. And even then, it makes Jude extremely uncomfortable to be around his adoptive brother. He’s had to go along with Jack’s rambling, and some of it was very possessive in nature. Jack calls Jude his a lot, and hugs him. He’s even tried to kiss him, which makes Connor furious. 

I hear Jude cry at night a lot when that happens. Connor’s always there to comfort him though, assuring Jude that he’s not mad, at least not at him.

I’ve privately heard Stef and Lena discuss sending Jack to a psychiatrist, or a mental institution on a short-stay basis. As to whether or not that would work, I can’t say. Jack is unhinged, and mentally deluded. I think I’m the piece of the puzzle in Jude and Connor’s life that finally caused him to snap, too.

I don’t feel good about that, but Jude and Connor are always quick to assure me that it really isn’t my fault. Jack had been having these feelings for years. He’d have been bound to snap at some point, although I don’t think Jude and Connor ever expected him to get this bad.

I’m spending a lot of time with Jesus and AJ. They’re really cool. Jesus comes to pick me up from school sometimes when Jude and Connor are working. I ride shotgun in his truck, and we blast the radio as we drive around San Diego. He, AJ and I go out together once a week now. Both of them get what it’s like to be in the foster system, so I find it easier to be open with them. Like Jude and Connor, they never push me, but they always let me talk if I need to. Both of them are completely lousy at arcade games, by the way.

As for how Connor and his father are doing, they’re kind of just getting to know each other again. 10 years can change a lot in a person, so yeah. Connor is still very reluctant, and with good reason, but they are civil with each other. He doesn’t stop by at all, but Jude and Connor agreed to one telephone call and one meeting away from the apartment a week. 

Jude and Connor are much friendlier with Jan, who I have to say is an awesome woman. She makes the best shortbread and pies. Often, she’s Adam’s messenger, and I hear her most times talking in whispered tones with Jude and Connor, but I can’t be sure as to what about, and, quite frankly, it isn’t any of my business.

Connor seems tense a lot these days, between his work, planning the wedding, and dealing with Adam, I can’t say I blame him for that. The MLB draft is fast approaching and it’s a mad scramble in the executive complex. I sometimes like to just sit back and watch. It’s almost cartoonish, and it never fails to amuse me.

All the weight just seems to ease when he comes home. He hugs me, and asks me about my day, before going into the kitchen to greet Jude, who always has dinner cooking. On days when he has to work late, Jude and I make our way to his office with our food and eat there instead. It’s very important to both Jude and Connor that we do that, and I have no complaints. If anything, I enjoy spending time with them like that.

On days when either Connor or Jude (or both) are stressed, I make sure to give them their space. When they tell me not to disturb them, I don’t. Both because I’m still suffering from deep-rooted fear of them sending me away, and because I value my eyesight, and I really don’t need to see what goes on with those two behind closed doors.

As Jesus often says, “it’s bad enough to see what they do when the doors are open.”

I love this family so much. Everyone has accepted me with such open arms (save Jack) and made me feel secure, and loved. I can’t wait to be a part of them forever, because this is what a family is supposed to be.

Supportive. Loving. Kind. Imperfect. 

We’re currently eating lunch at a restaurant in the mall with Marina, who Jude and Connor offered to let come with us. The two of us sit there trying not to lose our appetites while they feed each other bites of food off of their respective forks.

Jude kisses Connor, and Marina and I promptly chorus. “Awww.”

They break apart sheepishly blush coloring their cheeks. “Sorry,” they say.

Marina and I don’t mention that they hardly sound ‘sorry’ at all. But the two of us don’t hold it against them. They’re honestly one of the most in love couples either of us have ever seen.

That doesn't mean their perfect, though and I still remember the first time I witnessed this imperfection in Jude and Connor’s relationship. I was shocked that they were even fighting. I’d never heard them so much as raise their voices at each other before.

*Flashback*  
“I’m home,” Connor says, letting out a deep sigh from the entryway.

Jude gets up from where he sits on the couch. Braden listens in.

“Where have you been?” Jude questions.

“I was at work,” Connor responds. 

“Work?” Jude asks, coating the word in an interesting combination of emotions. “Yeah, right.” 

“What does that mean?” Connor retorts.

“Are you cheating on me, and just using ‘work’ as an excuse to do it?” Jude asks, never one for sugar-coating.

“What?” Connor breathes dangerously. “Where the hell are you coming up with that?”

“You’re spending too much time at the ‘office’ for it to be just about ‘work’” Jude snaps. “You’re never home. I’m always the one tucking BC into bed. I’m the one slaving over a hot stove every night to make our family a meal that you’re never home for. The only time that we see you is when we come to your office! Who is it?”

“Who is what?” Connor snaps back.

“Is it either of your bosses?” Jude accuses. “Or is it that new intern you hired? Because let me tell you, I can’t compete with men that old if you’ve got a secret thing for older men, or with a young guy like that if that’s what you're after.”

“Do you hear yourself right now?” Connor says, partly incredulous, and partly hurt by Jude’s stinging allegations. “Babe, we’re engaged, we’ve been together for 10 years! I’m not cheating on you! I never would! Especially NOT with either of my bosses or my intern. That’s just ridiculous. I only have eyes for you, you’ve known that since we were 13.”

“Am I too predictable for you?” Jude rambles, not registering a word Connor just said.

Connor chuckles. “You predictable?” he questions. “Babe, you could never be predictable if you tried. Just when I think I’ve finally figured you out, you always pull something out of nowhere.”

Braden is now watching the couple. Jude sobs, collapsing into Connor, who wraps his arms around him tightly, nuzzling into his neck.

“I’m so sorry,” Jude hiccups. “I’m so, so sorry, Connor!”

“It’s okay, babe,” Connor says earnestly, pulling Jude tighter to his body and pressing a kiss into his temple.

“It’s not though!” Jude protests. “I’m such a needy, insecure ass.”

“Shush, babe!” Connor coos. “No speaking, just get it out.”

Jude and Connor stand there for minutes at a time, as sobs wrack Jude’s body uncontrollably, and he mumbles a string of incoherent sentences.

Connor finally pulls back, and his horrified when Jude begins the process of sliding off his engagement ring.

“What are you doing, Jude?” Connor chokes out.

“I thought… maybe you didn’t want to marry me,” Jude replies. “I thought you wanted us to break up.”

Connor claims Jude face between his hands. “No, babe,” he says. “Never. I still want to marry you. You’ve been my entire world since we were thirteen years old. I can’t imagine spending my life with anyone else but you by my side.”

Jude breaks down again, clawing Connor’s back, as if he is desperate to hold onto him.

Connor’s eyes betray his heartbreak at Jude’s words and actions. He leans down and stops Jude mid sob, pressing a passionate kiss to his lips, which Jude is thrown off by, but eventually sinks into. After all, no one could ever kiss him like Connor does.

“I’m sorry,” Jude eventually says. “I know you would NEVER cheat on me. I don’t know what came over me.”

“I understand, babe,” Connor assures him. “I have been neglecting you and BC in favor of preparing for the draft. It’s just that there is a lot to do, and my workload never seems to let up, but that’s no excuse. If you want me to go to Taylor’s, or Jesus’s place, or even your Mom’s, and to leave you alone for the night, I will.”

“No!” Jude says sharply, repositioning his ring on his finger. “You are NOT leaving me.”

“Okay, then!” Connor laughs, kissing Jude’s hair. “I promise I’m not going to leave you. Now, can I go get changed please?”

Jude nods, and follows Connor into their bedroom. 

Braden makes his way out from where he has been watching and goes to his own bedroom, putting his MP3 player on and letting the music play, perhaps a little louder than normal.

The “Do Not Disturb” doesn’t have to spoken to him tonight.

*End Flashback* 

“What are you thinking about, BC?” Connor asks me.

I shake myself out of my reverie. “Just the first time I remember you two fighting,” I reply.

“You remember that?” Jude pales. “I didn’t even know you had heard that…”

“It’s not a bad thing,” I reassure the two of them. “It showed me that you two were human, and that no relationship is perfect. And of course, I remember that. You two are so in love with each other that it almost doesn’t seem possible that you would argue. You didn’t exactly keep it down either.”

“What else did you hear?” Jude asks nervously. 

“Nothing,” I say honestly. “I went to my bedroom and put my music on.”

Jude and Connor breathe a sigh of relief and Marina and I laugh, until I see a face I never expected to see again enter the restaurant and I freeze and our eyes meet.

The person immediately recognizes me and begins to walk towards me. He’s changed, wearing dog tags with close-cropped hair, and army fatigues, but I could never forget that face or those eyes.

Jude, Connor and Marina immediately notice my nervousness. “What’s wrong, BC?” they ask in tandem.

I don’t have time to respond before he is standing at our table. “Hello, Braden,” he offers.

I force myself to look up, and into the eyes of… my old foster brother.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, another cliffhanger! I have to keep your interest somehow, but I promise it'll be resolved in the next chapter! Stay tuned!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	13. Chapter 12

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Last chapter's cliffhanger gets resolved, before Connor and Jude meet with a nervous Jan and Adam who blindside our couple with some surprising information...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you all! As promised, it'll resolve the cliffhanger of last chapter, but it's not without some drama. Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells and Bob Olsen, as well as any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

“Hello, Braden,” the stranger says, and I’m immediately on guard. Who is this person, how do they know BC, and why the hell are they here?

I look at Jude to find an equally worried look mirrored on his face. I turn to BC.

“Who is this, bud?” I ask.

“This is the former foster brother I told you guys about,” he spits venomously, eyes narrowed dangerously, but still slightly fearful, as he takes in the stranger. “The one who got sent off to military school, remember?”

My aura darkens considerably as I address the stranger. “What the hell do you want?” I ask. 

“Is it a crime for me to check up on an old foster brother?” the stranger asks. “I just saw him and thought I’d come say hello.”

“Marina? I ask, turning to look at the girl. “Are you and BC finished your lunch?”

She nods.

“Good, I need you to take BC and go wait somewhere in the restaurant where this man can’t see you, okay? Jude and I have to have a little talk with him first and then we’ll call you back.”

She nods, and promptly takes BC’s hand, beginning to haul him away.

“Take a seat,” I say to the stranger, motioning to the now empty booth opposite of Jude and I.

The stranger nods nervously, before doing as he’s told.

“Name,” I bark.

“Michael James Callahan, sir!” he says.

“Okay, Michael,” I say. “I want you to know that BC has told us what you did to him two years ago, so let’s not pretend that you’re a model foster brother just checking in on an old foster sibling. Why are you really here?”

“I wanted to see him,” Michael answers. “I want to apologize to him. I realized when I got shipped off to military school that I was wrong in how I treated him. I was a spoiled, attention-seeking little brat who hated him purely because he took people’s attention off of me. In the two years I’ve been at military school, I’ve realized how wrong that was, and I want to at least apologize for my actions.”

I huff. “And you think that an ‘I’m sorry’ is going to fix everything, is this it?” I question.

“No, sir,” he responds. “I just want to lift the weight off of my conscience is all. I don’t expect forgiveness, but I’d at least breathe easier knowing I attempted to right my wrong.”

“Well,” I respond. “Let’s make it perfectly clear that you beat a defenseless kid who was weaker than you and whom you were supposed to treat as though he were your own brother. That weight will never leave your conscience.”

“Yes, sir!” he agrees. “It is a figure of speech, sir. I know that I’ll have to live with it for the rest of my life, sir! ”

Well, say what you will about the military lifestyle, you can always count on the military to straighten people out, and teach them how to behave. At least the kid has manners now.

“Very well,” I sigh. “We’ll let you attempt whatever pathetic excuse of an apology you’ve come here to attempt, but if he dismisses you, you go without question. If you make a single move against him, my fiancé and I will have you flat on your ass before you’d even know what hit you. Understood?”

“Sir, yes sir!” Michael announces.

I turn to Jude. “Go get BC and Marina, bring them back, okay?”

Jude nods, slipping out of the booth.

I turn my attention back to Michael. “If BC can forgive a dead man who killed his parents for the sake of that man’s widow, I don’t put it past him to forgive you, either. Don’t count on it, but, if he does, consider yourself lucky. Very lucky.”

Michael nods, standing again as Jude returns to the table with BC and Marina.

“So, Michael,” BC says neutrally. “What is it you’re here for?”

“To apologize, Braden,” Michael says, looking down and studying his sneakers. 

“Look at me, you coward!” BC snaps.

Marina takes a grip on his hand and squeezes, calming him. Michael looks up.

“Much better, and it’s BC now,” he tells Michael. “You’d do well to start over and use my preferred name.”

Michael nods. “I’m here to apologize, BC,” he begins. “I’m sorry for my reprehensible conduct. I’m not expecting forgiveness, by any means, but you always were a good kid. I’m hoping you have it in you to forgive me.”

BC sighs. “What you did to me was awful, but it would serve me no purpose to be angry with you, so while the day I actually accept an apology from you will be the day Connor here accepts one from his father Adam, I want you to know that I appreciate that you did apologize, okay. Go back to your base, or whatever, and be the best soldier you can. But don’t ever come near me—or my family—ever again. You understand me?”

“Yes,” Michael answers.

“Good,” BC nods. “You’re dismissed.”

Michael walks swiftly away, heels clicking. BC visibly relaxes once he’s gone. 

“Are you okay?” Jude and I ask at the same time.

“I’m fine, Dads,” BC reassures us. “I just want to go home though, if that’s okay.”

I reach over the table and tousle his hair. “Sure, bud. We just have to drop Marina off at her house first.”

We pay the bill and have any leftovers boxed up, before the four of us exit the restaurant.

When we pull into Marina’s driveway, she speaks up. 

“Thanks for the lunch and the ride Mr. Adams-Foster and Mr. Stevens!” she says, before pecking BC on the cheek, causing him to blush, and exiting the vehicle.

We wait for her to get into her house safely, before we reverse out of the driveway and begin the journey back home to our apartment.

“So, that was new,” Jude says. “With you and Marina. How long has it been going on?”

BC blushes. “It’s just a friendly peck on the cheek,” he says. “Nothing more than that.”

“Sure, it isn’t,” I tease, joining the proceedings. 

“It is!” BC argues. “We’re not dating—”

“Yet,” Jude intones mischievously. “You’re not dating yet.”

BC huffs, crossing his arms over his chest and pouting. “I hate you both.”

“We love you, too, buddy!” Jude and I chorus.

As we walk in the front door of the apartment, I hear my phone go off with a new text message. 

Jan: I need to tell you both some things. Can you meet your Dad and I at the diner where we first saw you?

I nudge Jude, and he looks at the text, eyes widening. “What could she have to tell us?” he asks.

I sigh. “I guess there’s only one way to find out,” I say, as I type in my reply.

Connor: Okay. We’re on our way, Jan.

“BC!” Jude calls. “Your Dad and I have to go out for a while to take care of something. I’m going to call Uncle Jesus to come look after you, okay?” 

“Okay!” BC’s voice rings out, from his bedroom.

Jude fires a quick text off to Jesus, who arrives at our door within 20 minutes. 

“Thanks for this, Jesus,” Jude says to him. “Connor and I will be back shortly. We’ll make you dinner tonight as payment for watching BC.”

“Sounds good!” he says. 

Typical Jesus. Always thinking with either his stomach or a very particular part of his male anatomy.

Jude and I rush out to the car. We take the relatively short drive to the diner, and, upon entry, find Jan and my Dad seated at a secluded booth in the back.

I’m immediately on guard, as Jude and I sit.

“Thank you for coming so quickly,” Jan says. “I know we only agreed to one meeting and one phone call a week for Adam and the same plus one visit at your apartment for me, but I just needed to tell you two this. I couldn’t keep it from you anymore. And Connor, you especially deserve to know.”

Jan is starting to scare me now. “Know what?” I ask carefully.

She inhales and exhales, grabbing my father’s hand for support. “I have a 15-year-old son. He’s gay, too.”

My mind goes blank, and Jude looks at me worriedly.

The only thoughts my brain can conjure are: Jan. Son. Gay.

‘Did I honestly just hear what I thought I heard?’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "ANOTHER CLIFFHANGER!"
> 
> Yes, I'm sorry, but it will, as always be resolved. 
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	14. Chapter 13

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The fall-out from last chapter's cliffhanger...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's another chapter for you all to enjoy! I hope you're all able to enjoy it! Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim absolutely no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens (forgot to mention her earlier) and Jan’s son, whom will be formally introduced in this chapter. I also claim any ownership of all further OC’s that I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

“I have a 15-year-old son,” Jan says.

‘Okay…’ I think to myself, unsure as to why that would matter to us exactly. I mean, if Connor has a stepsibling, we obviously want to get to know him, but that can’t be the only reason she’s this nervous. There’s something else that she’s not telling us…

“He’s gay, too,” she continues, and that’s when it all clicks.

I can’t say I saw it coming, but it does make sense. Why Jan was so adamant that Adam had changed, and what exactly she meant by saying that she’d never marry a man that still held Adam’s old ideals.

I look worriedly at my fiancé out of the corner of my eye, to see that his eyes have turned glassy, and his face has gone blank.

I take his hand in a vice grip, squeezing tightly. “Connor…” I whisper softly.

All of the sudden, he returns to us, and he is shaking violently. “Jude, move out of the way and go back to the car. You don’t need to see me like this,” he says.

“I’m not going to leave you!” I say resolutely. “You need to calm down, babe.”

“I—I don’t know if I can,” he says, his body walking the dangerously thin line between keeping composure and snapping.

Despite the risk, I grasp his face in my hands, and force him to look at me. I move one hand overtop of his, guiding it to my heart, while the other strokes his cheek gently.

“Listen to my heart,” I tell him. “Feel the steady rhythm. Emulate it. Breathe with me, babe.”

We inhale and exhale like this for several minutes, until I see Connor’s eyes lose their feral intensity, and regain their kindness. “Hi, babe,” he says.

“Hi, love,” I respond. “You feeling better?”

He pulls me into his body, places a kiss on my temple, and whispers into my ear, “I’m okay, babe. Thank you.”

He turns back to Jan and Adam. “I’m sorry about that,” he says. “I don’t know what came over me.”

“I understand, Connor,” Jan says. “It is difficult for you being gay that your father didn’t accept you when you came out, but that he has accepted Theo.”

“His name is Theo?” I ask.

Jan nods. “Theo Wesley Stevens. Adam adopted him when we got married two years ago.”

“That’s great,” I say. “Isn’t it, Connor?” I ask my fiancé, whom is glaring daggers at Adam.

“Yeah, it’s great,” he says, never taking his eyes off of his father.

“Can we meet him?” I ask Jan.

She nods. “He’s here right now. He’s just in the car.”

She pulls out her cell phone and sends out a text. It takes mere minutes before a young teen is standing beside the table, looking at Connor and I with wide eyes.

“You must be Theo,” I state, and he nods. I hold out my hand for him to shake. “I’m Jude.”

“Nice to meet you,” he says, shaking my hand with a slight degree of nervousness, as he sees Connor glaring at Adam.

The kid is about 6 ft. 2, with tan skin and green eyes. A rainbow colored hair tie contains his curly brown hair, and his nails are painted a deep red color. His eyes widen as he notices the paint job on mine, which gleams in the fluorescent light. I flash them to him with a small smile, before turning my attention to my fiancé. 

“Babe,” I say. “This is your stepbrother Theo.”

Connor’s gaze finally tears away from Adam, who lets out a relieved huff, and sends me a grateful look.

His eyes fix on Theo, who just stands there under the microscope like a champ. I may have the epic ‘bitch face’ that can cause grown men to cower in fear, but Connor can be equally, if not more so, intimidating than me when he wants to be. 

I see his eyes soften, and he offers his hand to Theo across my body. “I’m Connor,” he says. “It’s very nice to meet you, Theo.”

Theo smiles, taking a seat next to Jan in the booth before taking Connor’s outstretched hand. “Likewise!” he says. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“I wish I could say the same,” Connor grumbles, and I jab a finger into his ribs in warning. He lets out a little squeal, before noticing my glare, and relents.

“I’m sorry,” he says, pecking me on the lips.

“It’s okay,” I say. “Just behave from now on, and I’ll give you a treat when we get home.”

Connor’s eyes light up, and I see Theo smirk out of the corner of my eye. “Nice one!” he says to me.

“Thank you,” I say, my voice taking on my best Elvis impression. “Thank you very much!”

Theo snorts. “I like you,” he tells me, signaling for a high-five. 

“I appreciate that,” I respond, reaching up and meeting his hand with my own.

A silence drapes over the five of us. You could hear a pin drop, it’s that quiet. 

“So…” Adam breaks the silence. “You two might have questions.”

“You’re damn right we do!” Connor seethes. “I mean, what the hell, Dad,” he spits. “All of my childhood you essentially hammered into my head that being gay was a sin and threatened me with being disowned if I was, and then you drop this on me out of nowhere?"

He turns to Theo, and reaches for his hand. “Theo, please know that this has absolutely nothing to do with you, okay? If he’s a better father to you than he ever was to me, I’m not upset by that, but you have to understand that this man, my—our—father has said and done some awful things to me in the past, and I’m just trying to make sure you and your mother don’t get burned in the way I did. I want you in my life. I’ve always wanted a brother, but Jude and I have some unresolved issues with Adam that you can’t just put a band-aid on, okay? You’re more than welcome to visit us, anytime.”

Theo nods. “I understand. Thank you, Connor.”

I hand Theo my car keys. “If it’s alright with Adam and your Mom, we’d love to have you over for dinner tonight, Theo,” I say. “So you just go sit in the back-seat, and we’ll be out when we’re finished here. Like Connor said, the conversation we’re about to have has absolutely nothing to do with you.”

Theo looks to Jan and Adam, who nod consent, and rushes out of the diner.

Connor and I smile at his retreating form, before steeling ourselves and turning back to Adam and Jan.

“Explain. Now,” Connor says to Adam. 

“My God, Connor!” Adam scoffs. “There really is no pleasing you, is there?”

“Watch it, Adam!” I snap. “This isn’t about Connor, it’s about you and the reprehensible behavior you exhibited during Connor’s childhood. You asked us to meet you both here, so let’s agree to save each other the time and aggravation and get down to the crux of the matter. You two say what you need to say, we’ll respond and then we’ll head home. We have my brother Jesus and BC waiting on dinner at home.”

“Do you two have any questions for me about Theo?” Jan asks nervously.

“Yes,” Connor says. “How old were you when he was born? You must be in your mid-fifties by now.”

“I’m 55,” Jan nods. “I had Theo when I was 39. It was a very dangerous situation for my body, but he was my miracle child. I couldn’t give him up.”

“Fair enough,” Connor nods. 

“Does he have any allergies that I need to be aware of when cooking tonight?” I ask Jan.

She shakes her head.

“When did he come out?” Connor asks.

“He was 13, same age as you if what Adam’s told me is true,” she responds. “I met Adam the next year at a conference for LGBT parents.”

“I was around 13, maybe just past 14,” Connor tells her. “I’m surprised he remembers that. I’d imagine I was a slightly taboo subject for him.”

“He was very reluctant to talk about you, yes,” she admits. “But that had more to do with the fact that I said I was completely intolerant of homophobia than the fact he was ashamed of you.”

“Okay,” Connor says neutrally. “Dad, what changed in you that made you accept Theo when you could never accept me?”

“Jan was the deciding factor,” he says. “I fell in love with her, opened up about you, and told her that I wanted to a different man. That was the first night I ever met Theo.”

“You do realize that as nice as it is that you met someone like Jan,” Connor says. “You had absolutely no right to do what you did to me.”

“Of course,” Adam nods, incredulous. “I’ve become a lot more educated about LGBT people and their community, as well as how to deal with them in an appropriate manner, than you may realize.”

“Well,” Connor says. “You already know I have no trust in your words, but you’ve done a decent job of convincing me of that through your actions. If you keep this up, Jude and I will allow you two to come to Braden’s adoption when it’s set. You are not going to attend our wedding day, though, although we’d like to extend an invitation to Theo, Jan.”

“He’ll be there,” she nods. “That’s very kind of you both.”

“Now, if you excuse me,” I intone. “We have an adult and a kid waiting for dinner at our apartment and a teenager waiting in our car. We have to be going now. When would you like Theo home?”

“By 10:00, if you don’t mind,” Jan states after having a silent discussion with Adam.

Connor and I nod, bid our goodbyes, and make our way back to our car, which Theo unlocks for us.

As we drive back to the apartment, Connor and I attempt to get to know Theo better. He has nothing bad at all to say about Adam. He likes playing sports, he’s a bit of a bookworm, and he has a boyfriend named Ryan.

We take the elevator to the apartment. As we open the door, Braden wraps his arms around our legs, before finally spotting Theo.

“Who are you?” he asks.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "You did it again!"
> 
> I know, ANOTHER cliffhanger for you all to contend with. All I'll say on this one is that it will be resolved in a way that I hope everyone will be able to find satisfactory.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	15. Chapter 14

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC and Theo meet for the first time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another chapter! And I promise this one DOES NOT end on a cliffhanger. I hope you enjoy the next part of our story. Happy reading!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and want to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan & Theo Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen and Mary Stevens (why were we never given a name for Connor’s mom?), as well as any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into the story in the future.

I hear the door to the apartment open, and I immediately leap off the couch, ignoring Uncle Jesus’s laughter at my excitement. 

I fly into the entryway, and tackle my Dad’s, before looking up and seeing a random stranger standing behind them, with a small smile. I disentangle from my fathers and regard him.

“Who are you?” I ask.

He crouches down, so I don’t have to look up at him. He extends his hand to me. “I’m Theo,” he says. “I’m Jan’s son and Connor’s stepbrother. You must be BC. My mother has told me a lot about you.”

I look to Jude and Connor, eyebrows raised. “Jan has a son?” I ask.

“Yeah, buddy. We just found out,” Connor says. “That okay?”

“Yeah!” I say. “I love our family, you two know that.”

I notice Theo getting teary. “Please don’t cry,” I say, wrapping my arms around him.

He returns the hug, and pulls back, ruffling my hair. “You are one cool kid, BC,” he says.

I bow chivalrously. “Thank you,” I say, before standing and grabbing his hand. “Come meet Uncle Jesus,” I tell him, and I pull him into the living room, hearing my Dad’s laugh at my enthusiasm.

Once the introduction between Theo and Jesus is made, I settle back onto the couch. “Hope you like ESPN,” I say to Theo.

“Are you kidding?” he says. “I love ESPN.”

“Excellent!” I say, before pulling out my phone and sending a text to Marina.

BC: I just found out I have another uncle. He’s awesome!

Marina: Tell me everything, BC Anderson!

BC: Patience, Marina Reyes. All in good time. All in good time…

Marina: BC ANDERSON! Now! Unless you want me to march myself over to your apartment and knock it out of you.

BC: *shudders* Fine, you win! Remind me why you’re my best friend, again?

*****  
Just as dinner is called, I’ve filled Marina in completely. I swear I’m completely incapable of keeping anything from her, even if I want to. She just has a way of drawing things out of me in a way no one else can, save for maybe Jude. That perhaps explains why those two get along so well…

I need more friends.

Anyways, Theo is awesome. He loves sports, which quickly endeared him to Jesus and I. He plays a few, and his boyfriend Ryan is a fan as well. He has an extremely quick wit, which had Jesus and I in stitches, he’s incredibly intelligent, and he gives great advice. As much as I love Uncle Jesus, he always ribs me, just as bad as Jude and Connor, about Marina. Theo listened and told me that if I really liked her, I should take the risk and just ask her out. 

Apparently, Theo had had a crush on Ryan for months. Ryan was quiet and studious. He didn’t talk much. That only intrigued Theo, whereas others made fun of Ryan for his habits. Finally, he took the chance and brought Ryan a coffee while he was studying. The two got to talking, and the rest is history. They’ve been together for just over a year.

I asked for a picture, and Theo pulled his phone out, scrolling through until he came to a picture, and showed it to me. In the picture was Theo, with his arms wrapped around Ryan’s waist, looking tenderly at Ryan, who is slightly shorter with jet-black hair and brown eyes. The snow was falling lightly and the two were bundled up in hats, scarves and jackets. The chemistry between the two is palpable in the photo.

“That’s so sweet!” I said to him as we dismounted the couch. “You two make a cute couple!”

Even Uncle Jesus grunted a noise of acknowledgement at that.

“Thanks,” Theo replied, rubbing his neck sheepishly and blushing like mad.

Jude notices it as the three of us walk into the kitchen. “BC, what did you say to Theo?”

“Just that he and Ryan were a cute couple, honestly,” I tell him. “Then he got all red and embarrassed.”

Jude notices the phone and sets down the pot he’s holding. He holds his hand out. “Can I see?”

Theo nods, handing the phone over to Jude. “Very cute,” Jude observes after a minute.

“You better be talking about me, babe,” Connor calls before he suddenly appears behind Jude, snaking his arms around his waist. “Or do I suddenly have some competition?” 

Jude turns in Connor’s arms, looping his own around Connor’s neck, and chastises him lovingly. “I wasn’t talking about you, I was talking about Theo and his boyfriend,” he says. “But you know you have absolutely no competition when it comes to me. I’ve told you that.”

“I know,” Connor says, pecking Jude on the lips. “Doesn’t mean I can’t have a little fun with you, babe. Besides… I like when you give me attention.”

“Well you’ll be getting a lot more attention when our guests are gone and BC is in bed,” Jude promises, voice almost like a purr. 

“I look forward to it, my lovely fiancé,” Connor says, leaning in to place a passionate kiss on Jude’s lips.

“Oh, my God!” I say exasperatedly. “Can you please not? We have guests!”

Jude and Connor pop apart. “Sorry, BC…” they say sheepishly.

Once again, I don’t press them on how they barely sound sorry at all. Theo just chuckles.

“And I thought Ryan and I were cute,” he laughs. “We have nothing on you two.”

“I swear,” Uncle Jesus groans. “It’s like they’re doing it on purpose, but they really are that sickeningly in love with each other. Do they want the entire world to go blind?”

Theo just laughs. “They’re definitely on the way to that,” he agrees, and Uncle Jesus gives the two a smugly satisfied look. 

The five of us sit down to dinner in the living room. Connor instigates a game of 20 questions in an effort to learn as much about Theo as possible in as short an amount of time.

By the time we’ve reached the final question, we’re all smiling at each other, having laughed like mad many times thanks to Theo’s quick wit, and storytelling.

Jude looks at his watch, and notices the time. “We have to get you home, Theo,” he says. “As much as I hate to break up the party, it is almost 10 o’clock. That’s when your Mom asked us to have you home.”

“Okay,” he says, getting up off the couch, and running his hands over his jeans.

“Babe, we have one more question left…” Connor pouts.

Jude runs his hand over his face and huffs. “Fine, but if I’m late getting him home, you’re the one who’s taking the blame.”

“Deal!” Connor beams. “Theo, our wedding is in about four months or so, would you like to come?”

Theo looks stunned. “Are you serious?” he asks.

“Yep, we cleared it with your mother and Adam earlier at the diner,” Connor tells him.

“But you don’t even know me that well…” he says, clearly at a loss.

Jude places a hand on Theo’s shoulder. “You’re family,” he says. “Families celebrate together, especially events like this.”

He nods. “I’d love to come to your wedding,” he says, looking at Connor. 

“Excellent!” Connor beams, jumping off the couch and pulling Theo into a hug.

It’s slightly awkward at first, because Theo is caught off guard, but he eventually relaxes into Connor’s embrace, and the stepbrothers revel in their first hug. 

I’d imagine Theo feels much like I did when I first hugged Connor myself. There’s just something about him (and Jude) that just radiates comfort, safety and sincerity. They’re impossible to hate, and even more impossible to resist. Jude’s pout, puppy dog eyes and glare go a long way in that. Not that I would ever tell them that…

When Connor and Theo part, Theo asks, “Can I bring Ryan as my plus-one?”

“Of course!” Jude and Connor chorus, speaking as one.

“Great!” Theo beams. “Thank you all for your hospitality, and your kindness.”

“It’s our pleasure, Theo,” Jude says.

“Yeah,” Connor agrees. “You’re welcome at any time.”

Connor finds a piece of paper and writes on it, handing it to Theo. “If you need anything, at any time,” he says. “You call me, Jude or BC, okay? All of our numbers are on there.”

“Thanks,” Theo nods. “I will.”

As Theo walks out of the apartment on Jude’s heels, I think only one thought.

‘I think I’m going to love having another Uncle’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! No cliffhanger this time, but I'm very interested to hear what you think about Theo.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	16. Chapter 15

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Connor prepares for the draft, meets the consensus #1 overall pick, and makes his selection...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with more new chapters of this story! If you're a baseball fan, I think you'll get a special enjoyment out of this chapter, but you don't have to be a fan of the game to enjoy this chapter, so I hope that everyone will enjoy this newest instalment of our story. Happy reading! 
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do own are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens and Ryan Clark (Theo’s boyfriend, to be introduced), as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

I’ve heard Mark spout to me for the past two years how stressful the week leading up to the draft was. I never realized how little he was truly exaggerating… until now.

I’m constantly in meetings, on the phone, and swarmed with paperwork. My team and I are trying to lock in on the right pick for our organization. Who can help us the most as we enter a rebuild? Who can handle the pressures that come with being a top overall selection? 

As a new GM, I’m feeling the heat. I have to make the right call. I’ve been getting home late from the office all week in an effort to make sure everything is in order. The only reprieve I allow myself is when Jude and BC come to the office for dinner. 

As a result of my work, and Jude being busy, our son has spent more time being entertained by my intern or Jesus than I’m normally comfortable with. Jesus has started to teach BC some Spanish, and with his mind, I’m worried about what exactly that man (who is more like a big kid than anyone I’ve ever met) is actually teaching him to say.

‘God, I can’t wait for this week to be over!’ I think to myself as I stare at yet another analytics report from the scouting department.

I hear the noise that means there’s someone reaching me through the intercom. I press the button. “Yes?”

“Alex Meyer is here for his interview, sir,” my secretary Paulette says.

I huff and neaten my desk. “Thank you, Paulette,” I say. “Send him in!”

Within minutes, there’s a knock on my office door.

“Come in!” I say. And in steps Alex Meyer, a talented 21-year-old pitcher. Blessed with a 6 ft 5 in frame, good strength and a lean body, it’s easy to see how he possesses the natural gifts required to be a good pitcher.

“Hello, sir,” he greets me.

I stand up, offering my hand. “Connor Stevens,” I introduce.

“Alex Meyer,” he replies.

I indicate the chair behind him. “Take a seat, Alex.”

He does as he’s told. For someone normally so composed on the mound, he has a nervous jerk to his movements that’s undeniable.

“Welcome,” I smile. “And thank you for meeting with me. Are you ready for the draft?”

“As I’ll ever be,” he breathes out.

“I know it’s a stressful time,” I say. “This is my first draft as GM. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“I’d imagine, sir,” he responds.

“You are a gifted talent,” I say, quickly pouring over my most recent report on him. “A good record, a decent ERA, nice strikeout numbers. You keep the bases clear pretty consistently. Your BAA is good. Statistically, you’re a clear lock for the #1 overall pick. Which, as you know, is held by my team.”

“Yes, sir,” he says. “Thank you for the compliment, sir.”

“Do you think you have what it takes to be the ace of our pitching staff?” I ask.

“Yes, sir,” he replies.

“Tell me, in your own words, why you want to be selected #1 overall.”

“I think I’ve earned it,” he tells me. “I’ve spent 3 years at college. I have a backup plan for my life. I’m physically gifted, and I have the acumen to back it up.”

“Very well,” I say. “I’m going to give you a chance to answer this question before I tell you where I stand in regards to you, okay: Is there anything in a background check that I could possibly fine that would lead me to be concerned?”

“No, sir,” he says. His eyes dart away from mine quickly. 

‘Caught!’ I think.

“Look me right in the eye and say that, Alex,” I snap. “Look me right in the eye and tell me that you don’t have an alcohol problem!”

“What the hell are you talking about?” he demands.

“You’re background check. I conducted it personally while I was still Assistant GM. It came back with some troubling findings about your alcohol consumption. I found out that were drunk at practices and press briefings.”

“So? What’s the big deal?” he retorts. “As long as I win for you on the field, what does it matter what I do off of it? It’s my life…”

“It is,” I agree. “But if you want to play baseball professionally, for any organization, much less mine, you can not be going out and getting drunk out of your mind and coming to the ballpark completely wasted. And any trouble you get in off the field is most certainly my business, because at the end of the day, you would be my player. I’d have to deal with it!”

“Whatever,” he says, rolling his eyes.

“Do not roll your eyes at me, you brat,” I seethe. “I am only two years older than you, but I am a General Manager, and, right now, I’m the one who can decide your entire future. You will respect me.”

“Don’t tell me what to do!” he screams at me.

“I’ll say whatever I want to whomever I want!” I snap. “And as GM of this team, if we were to draft you, we would ask you to subject to weekly Blood Alcohol testing. If your BAL is past the limit we set in the parameters of your contract, you will be designated for assignment and released.”

He looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “Do you realize how many GM’s would love to have my talent pitching for them?” he questions.

“Quite a few, I’m sure,” I concede. “You’re talented. No one can deny that, but you have issues with alcohol and attitude, and unless you straighten out, you will be a complete bust.”

He snaps, fist narrowly missing my face. “How dare you,” he spits.

I said I would give this overgrown child a chance, but that was the last straw. I press my intercom button. “Paulette, get security in here now to escort Mr. Meyer off the premises.”

“Yes, sir,” she chimes.

“You’ll regret not drafting me!” he says, as security bodily removes him from my office.

I laugh. “The only one who will be sorry is the GM that eventually drafts you, if anyone does. I can assure you that it won’t be me.”

The door closes. I hear the man still struggling as he is dragged away.

‘Back to work,’ I say to myself. ‘Who are the experts tapping as second overall selection?'

*****  
It’s the eve of the draft. One of the few days I’ve been able to make it home to see Jude and BC, and now, I can’t sleep.

My selection is all but made, but I can’t help but second-guess it. And knowing how stressful and hectic tomorrow is going to be, I find myself gripped by insomnia.

I’m sitting on the couch; moonlight illuminating my face with its pale glow, sipping at a cup of tea that has long since been leeched of any warmth. 

“Hey, babe,” I hear a sleepy voice say into my ear.

Turning my head, I see Jude tiredly perched on my shoulder. “Hey, babe. Is everything okay?”

He lets out a fatigued laugh. “I should be the one asking you that. Nervous about tomorrow?”

“As if it weren’t obvious enough,” I sigh.

He huffs and I feel him move off my shoulder. He comes around and the moonlight bathes him in its dull blue-white coloring. 

Let it be known that, even fatigued, Jude Adams-Foster is the most gorgeous man I’ve ever laid eyes on. He takes my cold cup of tea and places it on the table, before plopping down beside my on the couch and pulling me into his body.

“You’re going to be fine,” he whispers softly. “You need to sleep though, or you’re going to be completely dead on your feet tomorrow.”

“I know,” I tell him. But I just can’t turn my brain off. It’s my first draft as GM, my first draft pick, the first time I’m meeting a lot of my colleagues face-to-face. It’s a lot of pressure.”

“Good thing I know how to turn your brain off, and ease pressure, then,” he says, breath ghosting over my ear, sending chills down my spine.

“Are you trying to seduce me, Jude Adams-Foster?” I ask, mock-scandalized.

“That depends,” he says, voice low, deep and gravelly. “Would it work?”

I crane his neck, and our lips meet in a searing kiss. As we pull apart with a pop, I respond, “Does that answer your question?”

He wastes no time in pulling me off the couch and back into our bedroom. It happens so fast that we never get to tell BC not to disturb us.

‘Sorry, bud,’ I think to myself, before all coherent thought goes out the window and I lose myself completely in Jude.

Let me just say… he definitely knows how to turn off my brain, and excise every ounce of stress from my body.

*****  
Draft day is finally here. The “War Room” is buzzing with activity. BC managed to sweet talk his way into getting off of school and coming with me. He sits next to me, eyes wide as he takes in everything.

“Whoa!” he breathes, and I laugh.

“It’s a lot to take in, isn’t it buddy?” I ask, as I reach over and ruffle his hair.

“Yeah,” he agrees.

“You like being here?” I question.

“I love it, Dad!” he says enthusiastically. “Marina is going to flip when I tell her. Can I take pictures, just so she’ll believe me?”

“If you want,” I tell him. “Just don’t distract anyone, okay? And come right back here when you’re done!”

“Okay,” he nods. 

And just like that, he’s off. I enjoy a brief reprieve from feeling like my body is being stretched in multiple different directions at the same time.

“Connor!” Mark calls me.

I stand and make my way over to where he and Bob are located, next to the draft board and in front of the giant television screen that is live-streaming the draft-coverage.

“Yeah?” I ask.

“You’re absolutely sure about not selecting Meyer, right?” Mark queries. “You’re 100 percent certain that we should go with Aspen instead?”

Aspen is Andrew Aspen, another pitcher who has completed his degree. He’s not as physically gifted as Meyer, but he has similar peripherals and a great attitude.

“I’m sure,” I say confidently. “After the stunt Meyer pulled in my office, he’s lost the respect of half the other GM’s I talked to. He’s talented enough that he probably won’t slip out of Round 1, but he’ll be lucky if he goes high anymore.”

“Very well,” Bob nods and he signals to the worker in the corner of the room. “We’re officially on the clock. Go make the selection.”

I find BC. “I’m going to make the pick, bud!” I tell him.

“Okay,” he says, semi-distracted as he takes a photo of my intern answering the phone.

I straighten out my suit and step out of the “War Room” to make my way to stage.

I step out and make my way to the podium.

“With the 1st overall selection in the 2026 draft, we are proud to select Andrew Aspen.”

*****

When BC and I get home, thoroughly exhausted from the day, we find Jude waiting up for us, sipping a tea and actually watching ESPN.

He places his mug on the table when we come into the room. He guides BC to the couch and lays him down, before covering him with a blanket. BC is asleep within seconds.

He makes his way to me, kissing me on the lips and pulling me into a hug. “I’m so proud of you,” he whispers.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, there we have it! I hope everyone was able to enjoy this chapter, whether you're a baseball fan or not. I'll be back with more new chapters later, so stay tuned!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	17. Chapter 16

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Planning a wedding can be both exciting and a bit intimidating... especially if your wedding planner is one Mariana Adams-Foster!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with another new chapter! We're getting so close to the wedding and I'm really excited for you all to read it. This chapters takes us through the final preparation and bachelor parties until we arrive at the morning of the wedding. Happy reading everyone!
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or it’s characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, and any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

“Judicorn! Connor!” Mariana calls, waking us up immediately. I hear footsteps pad down the hallway. Mariana doesn’t even knock on our bedroom door before she enters.

“Please tell me you two are decent under those covers?” she asks.

“Yes, Mariana,” I groan. “We’re decent.”

“Excellent!” she says, clapping. “We have much to discuss!”

“What is it now?” Connor sighs. “We’ve planned almost everything already.”

“Well, we still need to find a first dance song, we need to look for a DJ, and we need to get you guys fitted for tuxes…” I honestly drown her out after that, getting lost in Connor’s eyes.

It isn’t until Mariana snaps in front of our faces that we ease out of our trance. “Have you been listening to anything I’ve said?” she asks.

“We need to find a first dance song, we need to look for a DJ, and we need to get ourselves fitted for tuxes,” I list automatically. 

“That was like, only the first three things I said!” she whines. “I swear the two of you have your minds permanently in the gutter around each other. It’s why I’m keeping you apart on the eve of the ceremony.”

That gets our combined attention. “What?” we both spit.

“You can’t be serious, Mari,” I say to her.

“Oh, I’m very serious, my dear Judicorn,” she says, getting a dangerous glint in her eyes.

I shiver. 

“Now, I have a surprise you, my brother,” she announces. 

A second later, Brandon walks into our bedroom. I haven’t seen him over anything more than a computer screen in nearly a year. 

I shift the covers off my body and leap up, wrapping my eldest brother in a hug. “Hey, B,” I say.

“Hey, little brother!” he says. “How are you?”

“I’m good, thanks,” I tell him. “Why aren’t you in New York?”

“I took leave from the orchestra. Amy and I broke up because I was always working, so I decided to take a leave, and come home. I’m not due back until after your wedding!”

“That’s great!” I say. “It will be nice having the third normal sibling back. Because we both know Jesus and Mari are way beyond normal, and I don’t even want to talk about Jack…”

“Is he doing okay?” Brandon asks. “And I know you just said you didn’t want to talk about it, but Jude, he is our brother.”

I rub my hand over my face. “I know,” I tell him. “He’s doing okay. He’s at the mental institution during the day, and he’s home with Moms every night. They’ve moved him back into the house. He says a few words to Moms, but he still talks mostly to me, which is unbelievably uncomfortable. I just don’t know what to do, B.”

“It’s a tough situation, Jude,” Brandon soothes. “I wish I could tell you how to deal with it, but I can’t. Jesus might be able to help though, what, with the amount of psycho exes his has?”

It gets a laugh out of me, and Brandon smiles. “There’s my baby brother!” he says. 

“Thanks, B,” I say gratefully. “I needed that.”

“I could tell,” he replies. “Hey, Connor!”

“Hey Brandon,” Connor says, still trying to orient himself. I lean over and peck him on the lips.

“Awake now?” I ask teasingly.

He growls and pulls me into him. “Much better!” he says.

“As much as I hate to break up the moment, we do have lots to do!” Mariana cuts it.

“But not before I meet my nephew in person!” Brandon intones.

“Of course,” I say. “Let me just go wake BC.”

I get myself upright again and move one door down to my son’s room. I knock, before opening the door slightly. “BC?” I call.

“Hi Daddy,” he says to me. “Is Aunt Mari here? I swear that woman could wake the dead.”

“Yeah she can,” I laugh. “And yes she is, along with someone you haven’t met in person yet.”

He ponders this before his eyes light up. “Uncle Brandon’s here?”

“Got it in one!” I praise. 

He’s out of bed so fast I barely see him get between his bed and the door. I hear an “oof” from the next room and I know that Brandon has officially been introduced to BC’s own unique way of greeting people. 

I walk back into my bedroom, to see Brandon crouched and enveloping BC in a hug. “You’ve gotten so big,” he marvels.

“Video chat just doesn’t do him justice, does it?” I ask him.

“It doesn’t,” Brandon agrees, before his lips curl upward into a smile. “But it just may have done you and Connor a few favors.”

“Hey!” I grumble. “Watch it!”

*****  
BC and Brandon spend breakfast getting acquainted in person. They’re currently discussing life in New York City, and Brandon’s music. Earlier, BC had finally managed to get Brandon to agree to start the piano lessons that Brandon had promised him.

Mariana drills Connor and I on what still needs doing in order to get the wedding planned, and at this point, I think I can speak for Connor and I together when I say that just going to the courthouse and signing papers would definitely be the preferably route at this point.

“So, let’s talk about the first dance song!” she says. “Have you guys given it any thought?”

Connor and I exchange a look. We both know that there is only one song that fits the bill: Matt Alber’s cover of Whitney Houston’s “I Wanna Dance With Somebody (Who Loves Me). It was the song for our very first dance at an LGBT prom organized by Cole, and it was the song Connor and I danced to the night we got engaged. There couldn’t be a more perfect song, and we tell Mariana so.

“That’s so sweet!” she coos. “So first dance song is covered. Can I trust you two to hire a DJ? Or do I have to do that one?”

“I could provide the music, if you want,” Brandon intones.

Connor and I share another look. It’d be better than having a DJ. “Yes,” we agree.

“Great!” Brandon says. “I’ll make a custom playlist and start learning the “Wedding March” on piano.”

“That’d be great, B!” I tell him. “Thanks a lot.”

“It’s the least I could do,” he says with a smile. 

“Now, the last bit of business for today is tuxes, and on that end, I brought in some reinforcements,” Mariana announces.

All four of us groan. When Mariana says she has brought in reinforcements, she’s really brought in the cavalry. At this point, I put absolutely nothing beyond her. She can rope just about anyone in to serve her (sometimes quite devious) purposes. 

There is a knock at the door. Connor and I get up to get it together, and are met with his mom Mary, Theo, Jesus, Callie and my Moms.

I sigh. “How many of you did Mariana have to threaten in some way to come here?” I ask the assembled group.

Every hand shoots upward.

I rub my hand over my face. “I figured as much,” I tell them, before stepping aside. “Come on in everyone.”

*****  
After Mariana called in her reinforcements to help us choose and get fitted for tuxes, the remaining weeks until the wedding pass quickly. We begin receiving RSVP’s, and go to pick out wedding bands. We meet for a final time with the cake decorator, who assures us that she can have the cake done in time. We even start writing our vows.

Before I know it, it’s the day before the wedding. Mariana (once again) comes bursting into our apartment.

“Remind me again,” I groan to Connor. “Why on Earth I thought it would be a good idea to give all of my siblings keys to our apartment?”

“I don’t know, babe,” he tells me. “I really, honestly don’t know what possessed you to do that.”

“Me neither,” I grumble, trying to enjoy my last few moments of peace and quiet before Mariana all but shatters them.

She’ll be in our bedroom (without knocking) in approximately 3…2…1…

“I have arrived!” she exclaims, busting through the door.

“Do you ever knock?” I snap irritably. “You really need to stop barging in here like that. You’ve nearly given Connor and I a damn heart attack multiple times because of it.”

“Well I wouldn’t have to,” she huffs. “If three people would get their lazy asses out of bed at a decent time and were actually up to answer their front door when I knocked.”

“It’s the weekend!” Connor retorts. “Just because you’re up at the crack of dawn, doesn’t mean the rest of us are!”

This goes right over my sister’s head, and she drags Connor out of bed. “Say your goodbyes because you won’t be seeing each other until tomorrow morning!” she announces before hastening from the room.

Connor pulls me into him, wrapping his arms firmly around me and claiming my lips in a long, slow, passionate kiss. “Bye, babe,” he says when we part. “I’ll see you at the altar.”

“Just don’t go getting cold feet, you hear!” I call out as he exits the room.

I hear him stop and turn back. He re-enters the bedroom and plants another kiss on my lips.

“Never,” he vows. 

And then, he is truly gone.  
*****  
I spend the day with Moms, Callie, Jesus and Brandon. We swap stories, and laugh with each other. Callie and Moms get teary more than once. 

They get kicked out for my bachelor party. Jesus planned it, so I’m terrified. 

A knock sounds on the door, and judging by Jesus’s reaction, it’s what he has been teasing at all afternoon.

I get up to answer it. My only thought it ‘Please don’t be a stripper, please don’t be a stripper…’

I open the door to a man about my age dressed in a cop costume that Mom would find incredibly insulting to cops.

‘Damn it, Jesus!’ I curse internally.

“Are you Jude?” the guy asks seductively. “Because if so, you’re under arrest!” 

I slam the door in his face at that. I hear my idiot brothers laughing in the living room.

“You two better start running!” I warn. 

The laughter stops and I feel the both of them breeze past me and out of the apartment. It’s the wisest thing they’ve done all day. Those two know better than to cross me when I get angry.

I sigh at their idiocy and make myself a cup of tea, which I down before getting into bed.

I close my eyes, and dream only of Connor.

*****  
Halfway through the night, I’m awoken by footsteps padding down the hall. A shadow casts itself over my room, and I feel the figure behind it get closer in proximity. I feel Connor’s side of the bed dip, and arms wrap around me before a voice whispers in my ear.

“Hey, babe,” it says. 

I turn in the arms and find Connor staring back at me. “Hi,” I whisper.

“You didn’t really think she’d keep us apart, did you?” Connor asks.

“Absolutely not,” I tell him. “She should know better by now.”

“Yes,” Connor laughs. “She should.”

“Did you have fun at your bachelor party?” I ask.

“Mark got me a stripper,” he says. “Theo thought it was hilarious.”

“Jesus and Brandon did the same thing,” I huff. “I slammed the door in his face, and those two left the apartment right after.”

“That’s so you, babe,” Connor laughs, kissing me.

“Isn’t it?” I ask. “I almost felt bad for the guy, but no one is allowed to touch me but you.”

“I’m glad,” Connor responds, and I can feel the smile in his voice. “And just so you know, that goes both ways. I slammed the door in the guy’s face too.” 

“Why don’t we get some sleep, hm?” I throw out into the darkness.

“Sure, babe,” Connor replies.

I turn back to a spooning position and Connor tightens his hold on me. I fall asleep in minutes.  
*****  
“Judicorn!” Mariana calls when she enters the apartment the next morning.

“Yes, Mari?” I respond, and I hear her gallop down the hallway to my bedroom.

She scowls when she notices Connor is with me, but that scowl quickly fades. “I should’ve known,” she says.

“Yes, you should have,” I agree.

“Now, are you ready to get married?” she asks me.

“I’m more than ready, sis,” I tell her.

She smiles. “Well then, let’s get going.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Wedding bells are in the air! I think you're all going to like the next chapter!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	18. Chapter 17

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The wedding we've all been waiting for...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, after 17 chapters of waiting, here it is! Happy reading! 
> 
>  
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens and Ryan Clark, as well as any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

It’s hard to believe that just over 6 months ago, I was an abused foster kid with a caffeine habit due to forced consumption of copious amounts of coffee. 

Now, I’m a ring bearer at my Dads wedding, I have an amazing family, an awesome best friend, and a bright future. I understand what Jude meant the first day I met him about being one of the lucky ones. I now consider myself one of the lucky ones, too.

I hold the pillow with the rings on it out in front of me as I take my turn down the aisle. My Dad, Connor, smiles at me from his place at the altar, with his boss Mark and his stepbrother Theo at his side. I smile back.

I make contact with every row of chairs on either side of the aisle, and my eyes meet Marina’s. She smiles at me, and I feel a shot of electricity shoot through my body.

I smile back, and continue down the aisle with one thought in my head: ‘I’m in love with Marina Reyes.’

My mind flashes back to Theo’s advice of “If you love her, just take the chance and ask her out.”

I know what I’ll be doing later… but back to the present, and my Dads wedding.

I reach the end of the aisle and go to sit with Marina. She smiles again as I take my seat, and grasps my hand, before looking forward towards the altar. I try to keep myself composed as the electricity I felt earlier returns, sparking through my veins. 

Uncle Brandon starts the “Wedding March” and everyone stands, and looks back toward the entrance arch, which Aunt Mariana has decked out in some type of white flower.

There, I find my Daddy, Jude, with Grandma Stef and Grandma Lena flanking him as the walk him down the aisle. He has tears in his eyes, and his hair is spiked up. His fingernails are the same midnight blue hue they’ve always been. His smile rivals the sun in its brightness and intensity. 

Looking toward the front, I gauge my Dad’s reaction. His eyes too, are glistening. 

When the trio reaches the end of the aisle, Grandma Stef and Grandma Lena give Jude a kiss each, and together, place his hand in Connor’s effectively giving him away.

The officiate starts the service, welcoming us and thanking us for joining the couple on the day that they become united as one.

All too soon, it’s time for the vows. Connor goes first:

“Jude,” he chokes. “Who would ever have guessed that over 10 years after I first unceremoniously ran you over on your first day at Anchor Beach Charter School, that we would be standing here today, about to commit to each other in the deepest, most meaningful way that two people can? You are my rock, my anchor, and the axis that my world turns on. We’ve been through so much in the past 10 years, things that probably would’ve destroyed other couples beyond repair. But not us,” Connor laughs. “No. We’re far too stubborn to let circumstance keep us apart for too long. We’ve had our close calls, but we’ve always survived. And according to Jesus, we are the most sickeningly in love couple he’s ever seen. So that’s… something,” Connor trails off, and the gathered audience laughs. “You complete me in every possible way that one person can complete another, Jude. I never believed in soul mates, until I met you. Because if soul mates truly do exist, then you are mine. I can’t wait to spend the rest of my life with you, babe.”

Jude wipes a tear from his eye, before he begins:

“Connor, I didn’t know it when I met you, but you ended up saving my life. I knew that you were a special person from the moment we met. You looked past everything on the outside (including that dreadful bowl haircut of mine) and saw me for who I was on the inside. You accepted that person on the inside with no hesitation. I finally had someone with whom I felt comfortable being my complete self around. The version of me that I had always felt compelled to hide in order to survive my upbringing in foster care. I can’t tell you how grateful I am to you for giving me the security to be my most authentic self.” Jude pauses, taking a breath, before continuing. “We’ve been through many storms, storms that would’ve had most other couples lost at sea. We found land. Connor, you are the compass that guides me when I’m lost, the pillar that holds me up, and the strength that you give me makes me feel like I can take on anything. As of today, I get to call you mine forever, and I can’t tell you how excited that thought makes me. I do believe in soul mates, and you, Connor Stevens, are most certainly mine. I’m excited to start my life with you and our son. I know that there will never be a dull moment, and that whatever we come up against, we’ll face it together, just as we always have. I love you.”

Now it’s Connor’s turn to wipe at his tears as he looks at Jude through glassy eyes. He reaches out his hand to stroke Jude’s cheek. “Can I just kiss you now?” he asks.

The minister and the assembled gathering laugh. 

“Not yet, Mr. Stevens,” the minister chides him. “Just a little bit longer.”

Connor pouts, and the audience laughs again, before the minister continues the service. The traditional marriage vows and rings are exchanged. Jude nearly has a heart attack when Jesus (his best man) can’t find Connor’s ring at first. It results in a once-in-a-lifetime glare from Jude. I hope someone captured that moment.

Once the rings are exchanged, the minister asks if anyone objects. And it’s times like this I’m glad Uncle Jack or Adam aren’t here.

Finally, much to Connor’s delight, the minister announces that he can kiss his groom, and introduces Mr. and Mr. Jude and Connor Adams-Foster-Stevens.

The procession claps. I have tears in my eyes. My fathers got married. And I’m now one step closer to being adopted and getting to call this amazing, loving, absolutely insane family mine… forever.

*****  
After the cutting of the cake and the first dance, I excuse myself from the head table to go find Marina.

I tap her on the shoulder and extend my hand. “Would you care for a dance?” I ask her. 

“Absolutely,” she nods, handing her clutch to her father, before taking my hand.

We make our way to the dance floor and her arms wrap around my neck. “So, are you happy?” she asks me.

“Yes,” I reply. “Very.”

“I think it’s so great you’re that much closer to being adopted BC!” she says.

“It is great,” I say, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “In fact, only one thing would make it better…”

“What’s that?” she asks me.

I lean in and press my lips to hers. When I pull away, she touches her lips in shock.

“You kissed me,” she says.

“Yes, I did,” I admit. “Did you not want me to?”

Her response is to pull me in for another kiss. When we part, she asks. “Does that answer your question?”

*****  
"So you did it, huh?" I hear someone ask me. I turn to find Uncle Theo and another guy, presumably Ryan.

"It's that obvious?" I question.

Yep," the two of them say in unison, giving me twin smirks to match.

"Oh God!" I groan. "I can just imagine the grief Uncle Jesus is gonna give me for this."

Theo laughs. "You've got that right! And I imagine your Dads are going to give you quite the ribbing as well."

"Don't remind me!" I snap. "It's bad enough just thinking about it."

"Are you happy?" Ryan asks suddenly.

I look around. 

My Dads are shoving cake in each other's faces. Aunt Mariana and Uncle Jesus are bickering about something. Theo is here with Ryan, smiling. Stef and Lena are dancing together. And Marina is looking at me like I'm the only other person in the room.

I don't have much experience with the emotion known as happiness, but I suppose this is what it looks--and feels-- like. So, when I notice Ryan has his eyebrow arched still awaiting my response, I answer with one word, spoken soft yet firm:

"Yes."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> And there we have it! *bites nails nervously* I hope you all enjoyed the wedding. I'll have the next chapters up sometime soon! We're still nowhere near finished as far as this story is concerned. It'll be a good ride, so stay tuned!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	19. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> An unexpected complication threatens BC's adoption...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I'm back with some more new chapters of this story! I want to thank everyone who has given this story kudos or left a comment. I appreciate every one more than I could possibly express. I hope you enjoy the next few chapters, as they were some of my favourite to write, up until this point.
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens and Ryan Clark, as well as any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

The sun persists in rising, streaming rays of light directly into the bedroom. I squint, in a futile attempt to block them, but still they persist, which leads me to succumbing to their unspoken desire to have me open my eyes.

My eyes fall on the two forms next to me: BC in the middle, his platinum blond hair ringing his face in a golden halo and Jude, my husband, looking as peaceful as always.

Today is a very big day for our family. Today is BC’s adoption.

Jude’s eyelids flutter open. “Hey, babe,” he says sleepily.

I rise off the mattress, my body hovering over BC’s sleeping form as I peck Jude’s lips. “Hey yourself,” I murmur. “It’s a big day.”

“Yes it is,” he agrees. 

“Are you excited?” I ask.

“Of course I am,” Jude retorts incredulously. “But I’m probably nowhere near as excited as he will be. I remember the feeling of waking up and knowing it was my adoption day. It’s an amazing feeling.”

“I’m sure it must be,” I say. “To finally feel as though you have a family, a place to come home to that’s safe, and secure, and where you are free to be you with no hesitation.”

“Yeah,” Jude says softly, getting a nostalgic look in his eye. “And that we get to be that family for BC, and that this is his place to come home to. It makes me so happy.”

“Me too, babe,” I nod, pecking him again.

We lay there for an indefinite period of time, taking in our son. His eyes eventually flutter open, revealing his piercing cerulean orbs.

“Good morning, Dad,” he yawns to me.

“Good morning, buddy!” I chorus. “Did you sleep well?”

“Yes,” he mumbles, rolling over and eyeing Jude. “Hey, Daddy.”

“Hi BC,” Jude replies. “Are you ready for today?”

“What’s today?” he asks, looking genuinely confused. 

Jude and I share a worried look. ‘Could he really have forgotten?’

BC’s features morph into a cheeky smile. “Oh, my God!” he chuckles. “You should see the look on your faces! How I wish Aunt Mari or Marina were here with a camera…”

He trails off, howling with laughter. 

“You better start running, kid!” Jude growls.

BC goes completely still. He looks up at Jude, noting the intensity taking residence in his eyes, and hastens off the bed. I would be doing the exact same thing. I’ve been with Jude for 10 years and know that that look can only mean one thing: Jude is about to use his devilish fingers on your torso.

And BC has been with us long enough to know the look too. As fast as he can he bolts from our bedroom. We hear his door slam.

Jude falls back onto the bed and huffs, feigning annoyance. “That kid of ours is something else, isn’t he?”

“He really is,” I smile, pulling Jude into my body and reclining. I place a light kiss on his neck.

We lay like this for several minutes, before Jude breaks my embrace and pushes himself off the bed. “I’m going to get breakfast started. Why don’t you go check on BC?”

I nod, and grudgingly pull the comforter off my body, standing on disagreeing legs. I make my way to my son’s bedroom and knock on the door. It gets thrown open instantly, and my eyes widen at the sight of my son’s entire wardrobe strewn about the floor and his bed.

“Thank, God!” he huffs. “I need your help. We have to pick the perfect outfit.”

I laugh. “Okay,” I say.

He pulls me into the room. “Excellent!” he beams. “Now does this fedora match this outfit? And what about this jacket? Oh, should I wear my trench coat? And what should I do with my nails?"

‘Where is Mariana when you need her?’ I think to myself.

*****  
After finally getting BC’s outfit straightened out (I told him that the fedora he had selected from the many Jude and I had purchased him went with the outfit, advised against the trench coat and, later the sunglasses and painted his nails their signature midnight blue) and having breakfast, the three of us drove to the courthouse.

Our family is already waiting for us when we get there. Marina runs into BC’s arms and pecks him on the cheek, causing a wolf-whistle to emanate from Jesus, to everybody’s laughter, Marina’s embarrassment, and BC’s chagrin.

We must have been quite the sight to the court clerk who came to usher us into the courtroom.

We file in, our family taking seats on the benches, Jude, BC and I up front with our lawyer.

The door behind the bench opens. “All rise!” the bailiff calls. “Court is now in session, the Honorable Judge Jeffery Ringer presiding.”

The Judge looks much the same as he did when I last remember seeing him at Callie’s adoption. A little more gray, and weary, but still looking virtually identical. He is seated on the bench.

“Thank you, please be seated,” he says, motioning for everyone to sit. “Today, I was scheduled to finalize the adoption of one Braden Christopher Anderson to Jude and Connor Adams-Foster-Stevens. Unfortunately, something has come up…”

All the blood drains from my face. ‘This can’t be happening,’ I think to myself.

Except, it is. A quick glance at Jude confirms that his words are all too real.

I don’t know how I find the composure to speak. I can just barely choke the words out. “What kind of thing?’ I ask.

He looks at us, sighs, and says, “The social worker, a Mr. Dean Williams, has withdrawn his recommendation.”

“Son of a bitch!” Jude swears, before instantly going bright red in embarrassment. “Sorry, Your Honor,” he says sheepishly.

“I’ve heard worse, Mr. Adams-Foster-Stevens, don’t you worry,” Judge Ringer consoles. “I’ve known you and your family a long time, and I know that the reasoning behind Mr. Williams decision to pull his recommendation is very likely motivated by something other than the minor’s best interests, but you have to understand that we have to follow protocol.”

“Tell that to Dean Williams!” I snap. “He’s bloody corrupt. He was caught by my husband having looked in our son’s foster care record without the proper authority to do so. And, I care to venture a guess it wasn’t the first time he’s done it!”

“Interesting,” Judge Ringer says. “But you have no proof. If there’s anything I can do—”

“Do it!” I seethe. “Whatever it takes you will make sure that our son is adopted by the end of the day as scheduled, or so help me God…”

“Think very carefully before you finish that sentence Mr. Adams-Foster-Stevens,” he tells me.

I feel Jude’s hand on my face, forcing me to look at him. “Connor, calm down, babe,” he tells me.

“Are you seriously saying that right now?” I ask, incredulous. “Aren’t you the least bit upset?”

“Oh, let’s not go there,” he says. “I understand you’re upset so I’ll let it slide this time, but don’t for a minute think that I’m not as upset as you are. But… I have a plan.”

“What plan?” I ask. The look in BC’s eyes is heartbreakingly hopeful as he too looks to Jude.

“Mom! Mike!” Jude snaps. “Come here, please.”

“Mr. Adams-Foster-Stevens…” the Judge trails off.

Jude turns to face the Judge. Stef and Mike are now right beside us. “Your Honor, please. I have a plan.”

He turns to Stef and Mike. “How fast can you fit Connor and I with wires?”

“Very quickly, love,” Stef tells him. “Why?”

His eyes go completely dark. “The two of us have some unfinished business to settle.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> For those curious, this will NOT be a drawn out situation like what happened with Callie and Robert, it'll be resolved in the next two chapters. As I said before, these chapters were amongst my favourite to write up to this point. There's definitely a lot of suspense and action, so I hope everyone will be able to enjoy them.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	20. Chapter 19

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude and Connor face off with Dean Williams as the future of their family hangs in the balance...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to another chapter of our story! I hope you enjoy this one, but be warned that there is some violence and intense dramatic sequences. I don't think it's enough to alter the rating, but use caution just in case. Reader discretion is advised. 
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, and Ryan Clark, as well as any other OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

We have to get Mike to drive us to my office in his cruiser. Connor and I are shaking from anger so badly that we’d probably run right off the road if we even attempted to drive right now. 

The only thing getting me through this is thoughts of my son, and I know Connor feels the same way. We twine our fingers together wordlessly. The wire I’m wearing suddenly feels like an anchor, weighing me down.

‘Think of whom you’re doing this for,’ I remind myself. ‘Think of BC.’

His image pops into my mind. He’s smiling radiantly, platinum-colored hair contained by a fedora, his piercing blue eyes hidden behind sunglasses. 

I can’t help but smile myself. It makes me forget time and place, and suddenly, I can do this. The wire doesn’t weigh me down or make me nervous, my heart doesn’t feel as though it is about to hammer out of my chest, my breathing regains its normal rhythm, improving from the shallow mess that it had been, and I experience a sudden clarity.

Calm ripples through my body, and I squeeze Connor’s hand. He looks at me, and I offer him a tight smile, which he returns.

For the rest of the ride to my office, we are silent. The only noise is the cracking of the radio and the sirens. The flashes of blue-red light paint the two of us in their alternating color.

Mike parks the cruiser, and the three of us quickly exit, storming into my office building. Mike and I flash our badges to the nighttime receptionist, and she let’s us pass, dragging Connor along.

The three of us steel ourselves at the door to Dean’s office. 

“Wait here,” I tell Mike. “We’ll call you in. Connor and I need to have a little talk with my fine colleague first, though.”

Mike nods, and I rap on the door. 

“Come in,” I hear him say. I wrench the door open and storm in, Connor on my heels.

“Jude!” he says. “And Connor! To what do I owe the pleasure of your company and those absolutely frightening expressions?”

“Cut the BS, Dean!” I snap. “You know damn well why we’re here! But in case you want to play dumb, here’s a refresher: it involves a 12-year-old boy, the two of us, an adoption, and a recommendation from you that you mysteriously withdrew.”

“Ah, right,” he says. “I’m terribly sorry about that, but I just didn’t feel that your home was the best fit anymore for the minor in question.”

“Oh, we both know that isn’t true, don’t we?” I taunt. “But, if it isn’t true, what other possible reason could you have?”

He’s silent, and I see Connor smirk at the show I’m putting on for him. Outside the door, I know Mike is probably snickering too. I soldier on with my tirade.

“If I could venture a guess: it would have something to do with how I threatened to expose you for the corrupt hack that you truly are if I ever heard even so much as a whisper of you looking into another kid’s files without proper authorization the same way you did my son’s.”

“Well, you’re partially correct, Foster,” Dean sighs. “They don’t call you one of the best for no reason, after all.”

“Partially correct?” Connor asks. “What are all the other parts?”

“I was jealous,” Dean admits freely, completely unaware that we’re wearing wires. “Here I was a 20-year veteran of Social Services, and some upstart young former foster kid fresh out of college comes storming in and steals everything that should’ve, and would’ve been mine.”

“So, you were jealous of me?” I question.

“Yes,” he confirms. “What did you have that I didn’t?”

“Besides morals, ethics and actual experience being in the foster care system that trumps anything and everything you ever learned about said system at your fancy college?” Connor deadpans.

Dean huffs. “Yes. Besides those…”

“Nothing except a passion to help kids, and a good work ethic. I’m pretty sure you have those too. Or, at least, you did…” I trail off.

Dean sighs. “You’re right,” he admits. “I’ve become completely corrupt. I’ve lost sight of what truly matters in this line of work.”

For the first time since we stormed into his office, I feel a flicker of guilt for coming here under the guise of a normal confrontation. It’s only a brief flicker, because I know he’s had this coming to him for many years probably, and he decided to try and threaten the future of my family, but still. A part of me wishes I hadn’t told Mike to wait for my call, and that we would’ve had him come with us so that all the cards were on the table.  
But I know he would never have talked, much less been truthful, if he knew the two of us were fitted with wires and had a police cruiser waiting to take him to jail.

Sometimes, there is no black and white, right and wrong. Sometimes it’s all just one monotonous shade of grey. And as much as it pains me to admit it, sometimes duplicity has its merits.

“So…” Connor asks. “Are you prepared to put in writing that you reinstate your recommendation?”

“Yes,” Dean breathes. 

Connor and I circle his desk, watching as he handwrites a new letter of recommendation, which reads:

To Whom It May Concern:

Please accept this letter as a new letter of recommendation for the Adoption of Braden Christopher Anderson by Jude and Connor Adams-Foster-Stevens. My original withdrawal of my recommendation was based purely on factors outside of the minor’s best interest.

I conducted a thorough home study of the Adams-Foster-Stevens apartment approximately six (6) months ago, and found it to be an exemplary environment. Further visits showed the minor visibly comfortable in the home, and with his parents. I have no doubt that Braden Christopher Anderson has thrived since my colleague Jude and his husband (then-fiancé) Connor have taken him into their home.

I apologize sincerely for my petty misconduct. In my haste and jealousy of Jude, I nearly destroyed a very loving family. I will accept any and all repercussions for my actions.

Please grant the adoption as scheduled. Jude and Connor Adams-Foster-Stevens have waited long enough to call themselves parents, and young Braden has waiting long enough to call their house, his home.

Sincerely,  
Dean Richard Williams  
Social Worker  
San Diego Social Services

Once Connor and I have approved of the letter, Dean tears it off and hands it to us. Connor folds it carefully and slides it into the inside pocket of his jacket.

It’s then that I know we’ve accomplished what we came here to do. I inhale and exhale.

“I’m really sorry to have to do this, Dean,” I tell him. “But I can’t turn a blind eye to your corruption any more than I could have let you tear apart my family.”

His expression changes in an instant. “What are you talking about, Foster?”

“It’s Adams-Foster-Stevens, or can’t you even remember the name you wrote not even five minutes ago?” I question. 

“Meaningless trivialities,” Dean dismisses, and that sets Connor off.

“Our marriage is not a meaningless triviality, you ass,” he snipes testily. 

“I didn’t mean it that way,” Dean backtracks, holding his hands up in a defensive position. “Just what were you getting at, Adams-Foster-Stevens?” he asks.

“You assume Connor and I came here alone, right?” I ask, answering his question with one of my own.

“Well, yes—”

“We didn’t,” I cut him off, before turning towards the door. “Mike!” I call.

Mike steps into the room, and out of the corner of my eye, I see Dean go pale. I unzip my jacket; exposing the wire I’ve been wearing this entire time.

“You didn’t,” Dean seethes. “There’s no way Mr. Robot, Mr. Perfect, would ever consider…”

“Oh, but I did,” I deadpan. “And now, Mike here is going to take you to prison where you will rot for an undetermined period of time on corruption charges and emerge from it with a permanent stain on your name, both personally and professionally.”

Dean lets out an animalistic howl in anger.

“I wasn’t lying when I told you that if you ever did what you did with my son’s file, that I would make sure you would never be able to work at another Social Services branch anywhere in the world,” I tell him, eyes blazing. “Mission accomplished.”

Mike begins to haul him away, but he continues to shout. Something he says catches both Connor and I’s attention.

“You’ll never stop him!” Dean bellows.

“Hold up, Mike!” I say, holding out my hand in a stop sign. 

He stops trying to drag Dean out of the building and Connor and I approach him.

“Stop who?” Connor asks.

Dean spits in his face. I punch him in the face.

“STOP WHO?” I thunder.

“Your brother,” he tells me, spitting the words like poison.

“Which one?” I ask, thinking that there’s no way Brandon or Jesus would ever… “Oh, no… Hell no, Dean. Please tell me you didn’t!”

“I did,” he says plainly. “Your brother Jack, the poor fellow locked away in a mental institution, he’s quite in love with you. He is completely deluded and thinks that you’re his. That you secretly love him and that you two are going to be together. It wasn’t hard really. All I had to do was suggest that he could use my idea to get your attention…”

The blood drains from my face. “What idea?” I snap. 

“Jack is going to show up at the courthouse, and he’s going to take your precious Braden hostage.”

‘Oh, shit!’

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, things took yet another turn for the unexpected! Thoughts? Things are going to get a lot more intense before everything is all said and done, I assure you. 
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	21. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> One final confrontation, and new beginnings...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> You'll finally get some closure after the cliffhanger. I hope you enjoy it, but I will say that the warnings in last chapter still apply here: there will be violence and intense dramatic sequences (rating will probably go up just to be safe) so reader discretion is definitely advised.
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Anderson, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens and Ryan Clark, as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

We just found out that the social worker withdrew his recommendation for my adoption. I can’t believe after 4 years of hell, I could be forced through more. I finally found the perfect family…

And to think that it could all be ripped away from me, just like that… it’s more painful than anything I’ve ever experienced in the foster care system.

My family crowds around me, peppering me with questions and reassurances that everything will work out. That my Dads will adopt me no matter what it takes.

Marina squeezes my hand in a vice grip. I grace her with a small smile, about as much of one as I can muster at the moment.

Everyone is here: Uncle Jesus and Aunt Mariana, Grandma Stef and Grandma Lena, Uncle Brandon, Uncle Theo and Ryan, Aunt Callie and Uncle A.J, and even Grandma Jan and Adam, whom my Dads allowed me to meet for the first time today, Outside of the family are Marina’s parents, and the mother and kids I connected with through our shared tragic experience with the car crash, Alison, Jacob and Kieran.

Suddenly, I find it hard to draw breath. It feels like I’m trapped in a cage that I can’t get out of. Marina looks at me worriedly. I think I hear myself tell her that I’m okay. 

I push myself up off the bench where I’m seated, literally gasping for breath. The crowd assembled around me disperses slightly in order to give me space, finally taking notice of my plight. 

With more room, I begin to breathe again. 

“Thank you for your concern, everyone,” I finally say. “But I’m as fine as I can be given the circumstances. I know you’re only trying to help by reassuring me, and I thank you for that, but I can’t deal with feeling enclosed like that.”

There are murmured apologies amongst the group. I excuse myself to freshen up, and duck gratefully into the nearest bathroom, splashing water on my face before taking off my fedora and fixing my hair. 

After replacing my fedora on my head, I straighten out my shirt, and head for the exit.

As I’m about to pull the door open, it suddenly swings backwards, stunning me momentarily as it narrowly avoids hitting me.

Reorienting myself, I see a face that causes me to freeze.

“Uncle Jack…”

His eyes widen and he rushes forward, taking my arm in a rough hold and I’m immediately fearful.

I start struggling. “Let go of me!” I hiss, as he dangles me off the ground.

Kicking and clawing, I’m dragged toward the mirror, which my uncle smashes with his first, staining his entire hand red with blood. 

Shards litter the ground and he picks one up, all the while maintaining his vice grip on my arm.

He drags me back out into the hallway. Marina is first to see me.

“Oh, my God!” she shrieks, terrified.

This alerts everyone else, and they gasp.

“Jack, what are you doing, love?” asks Grandma Stef, who draws her gun.

“Where is Jude?” Uncle Jack questions.

“He’s not here right now,” Grandma Lena informs him. “He and Connor had some business to take care of. They’ll be back soon, though.”

“It’s always Jude and Connor this, Jude and Connor that!” Jack wails, swinging the shard in his hand wildly. “What makes them so fucking special?”

“Forget that for a moment, love,” Grandma Stef soothes. “How did you get out of your day facility?”

“I told them it was my darling nephew’s adoption today,” Jack says sinisterly. “And let me tell you, I can be a very persuasive actor when I want to be. After all, I hid my feelings for Jude all these years.”

“You’re a sociopath,” I spit. “You’re absolutely no Uncle of mine!”

He ignores that comment. “If you let me talk to Jude, the kid doesn’t get hurt.”

“He’s not here right now, love,” Stef reminds him.

“Well get him here!” Jack wails.

Lena sends out a text, presumably to Dads.

All I can think is ‘Please Dads, get here soon…’

*****  
About 15 minutes later, I see both of them come into view. Jack’s eyes widen as they take in my Dads.

“Jude…” he says quietly.

The two of them come to a stop beside everyone. “Momma?” Jude asks Lena, as he extends to her a piece of paper. “Can you make sure that Judge Ringer gets this?”

“Sure, bud,” Lena says tentatively. “What is it?”

“It’s a letter of recommendation for BC’s adoption,” he says.

My eyes light up. “You did it!” I say. 

“Yes, we did,” Jude agrees. “Now, Jack. I believe you asked to speak with me?”

“Privately,” he nods. “No family, no other people, no husband… just you, Braden, and I.”

“Fine,” Jude huffs, pecking Connor on the lips once and giving him a reassuring look. Lena leads everyone away, leaving just Jude, myself, and my Uncle (if you could even call him that right now).

“So, what is it you want, Jack?” Jude begins. “Dean told me he paid you a little visit and planted some quite fascinating, if underdeveloped, ideas in that head of yours…”

“I want you,” Jack breathes possessively. “I want you to leave Connor, and be with me. I want to adopt Braden with you, I want to take the two of you away from San Diego and start a new life… a better life…”

‘Better in your own deluded mind, maybe!’ I think to myself. 

Jude sighs. “Okay. But I need you to let BC go, all right?”

‘What?’ I scream internally. ‘Is he seriously doing this?’

His eyes meet mine, and in their depths, I notice that his heart isn’t in his words.

For as observant as Jude is, I’ve become equally as observant of him. He keeps a pretty good mask on his features. The only way you can tell if he means what he’s telling you is through the tiniest of slivers of emotion that he allows his eyes to show. He’s subtle. He’d be a fantastic poker player. But he’s just expressive enough to allow someone who has spent plenty of time with him to understand what he can’t voice at certain moments.

At this moment, they scream, ‘Trust me!’

And I do. With my life literally hanging in the balance, I trust him. I feel Jack release me, and I fall to the floor, scrambling backwards. 

Jack looks at Jude. “You mean that?”

“Yes,” Jude confirms.

Jack drops the shard, and walks toward Jude. Once he’s in proximity and starts reaching out to touch him, Jude reacts, sweeping his brother’s legs from under him, and restraining him.

“You tricked me!” Jack howls.

Jude laughs humorlessly. “Of course I did!” he admits. “Did you honestly think after 10 years together I would ever leave Connor?”

“I trusted you. You were my brother…”

“Your brother!” Jude nods. “Not your boyfriend, not your lover, not your fiancé and certainly not your husband! I never loved you romantically. Ever.”

“But why?” Jack asks, sobbing.

Jude looks at him straight in the eye. “Because my heart has been with only one man since I was 13 years old.”

“No!” Jack wails.

Despite the risk, Jude wraps his arms around his brother. “Yes,” he says soothingly. “I’m sorry I hurt you. I’m sorry you feel like you were led on. I was so happy when you met that other guy, you finally had gotten over your feelings for me. And I’m sorry you got your heart broken, but that doesn’t mean you can just come after mine the way you have.”

“I’m sorry,” Jack whimpers.

“I forgive you,” Jude says, shocking me. He looks at me as though he knows I’m shocked and I see another message in his eyes: ‘Let me finish.’

And so I do. 

“I forgive you for every wrong thing you’ve ever done to me,” he continues. “But I will never forgive you for what you’ve done to Connor, and certainly not for what you just did to my son.”

“No…” Jack sobs, trying desperately to cling onto Jude in any way he can. 

Jude pushes him away. Mike steps in, followed closely by Connor.

Mike handcuffs Jack and hauls him away. I see Stef and Lena crying, holding each other. 

As for Connor, he throws himself onto Jude, hugging tightly and pressing kisses all over his face. “Don’t ever scare me like that again!” he cries.

Jude holds him while they sob, whispering sweet nothings in Connor’s ear. And for once, I don’t think they’re being overly sweet. This is a couple who is so in love with each other that I honestly don’t know if one would be able to function properly without the other. 

I’m pulled away from them by a pair of arms wrapping around my neck. I hold Marina close to me for a while. She cries and I tell her I’m okay.

After a while, she pulls back and takes my hand in a vice grip, hauling me up. “God BC,” she chuckles. “You’re without me for no less than five minutes and this is what happens to you… you’ll be lucky if I ever let you out of my sight again.”

‘There she is!’ I say to myself. ‘God, I love this girl…’

The clearing of a throat interrupts my thoughts. Marina and I look up to see my Dads towering over us.

Jude asks. “You okay, buddy?”

I nod. “I’m fine. You?”

“Never better,” he huffs, and we both laugh.

“Are you ready to get adopted, buddy?” Connor asks me.

“Absolutely,” I smile.

*****  
Judge Ringer calls an emergency hearing. He hears testimony from Mike, Jude and Connor about the encounter with Mr. Williams. He listens to the audio recorded by the wire, and takes into account the new letter of recommendation. He hears testimony from nearly everyone present about how great I’ve been doing since I was placed with my Dads. I even testify.

At the end of it all, he signs a single piece of paper. “Congratulations Braden,” he says to me. “You are now officially a member of the Adams-Foster-Stevens family.”

There is clapping, but it’s decidedly more muted after the events that just occurred. I appreciate the effort, anyway.

It may not have been the Adoption Day I’ve been dreaming of for the past four years, but it is good enough for me.

I finally found my forever family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, what did you all think? The next chapter will start the second part of this story, so I hope you're all looking forward to that. I want to thank everyone on AO3 who has given this story a chance. All the love this story has received in such a short time here has been very heartwarming for me to see, and I'm eternally grateful for your support.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


	22. Chapter 21

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 2 Years Later...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> We’ve officially reached part two of this story! This chapter skips ahead by 2 years, so if you need a refresher on anything, go back through the past chapters. This chapter is in BC’s point-of-view, and you all seem to enjoy when I write in his perspective, so hopefully, you’ll enjoy this chapter. He’s 2 years older, but he’s still the same BC you all know and love. A quick note: To BC, Connor is Dad, and Jude is Daddy.
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Christopher (BC) Adams-Foster Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story now), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens and Ryan Clark, as well as any further OC’s I decide to create and insert into this story in the future.

It’s hard to believe that it’s been two years since Dads adopted me. A lot has happened, and much has changed since that time.

Dean Williams was charged with Corruption and sentenced to 7.5 years in prison. He got extra time because of his stunt with Jack, who is completely estranged from our family now. He was ordered to a mental health facility out of state on a full-time basis and put into solitary confinement with a 24-hour watch. Apparently, he was one of the most deluded, sociopathic patients the courts have ever dealt with.

Dad is still the GM of his team and Daddy is still a social worker. When people ask him at his office why he still works there despite Dad bringing in enough money to support our family, he responds: “You can take the kid out of foster care, but you can’t take the experiences of being in the system out of the kid.”

I know what he means. Once you’ve been in the system, you’ll never truly leave it. You’ll either get adopted or age out, but the memories and experiences you accrue there will stay with you forever. You’ll always be a foster kid, even when you aren’t a ‘kid’ anymore.

The three of us moved out of the 1200 sq. ft. apartment last year and into an actual house in a gated community. The place has 5 bedrooms and 3 full bathrooms. It’s got a view of the beach and the ocean.   
I think Dads bought it because they want to foster more kids. I’ve heard them whispering about getting in touch with Daddy’s old social worker to discuss the possibility. I’d love to have sibling(s), so I’d be all for it.

As for the rest of the family, Grandma Stef is thinking about retiring from the police force after over 20 years of service. Grandma Lena is still the principal here at Anchor Beach. She says she’ll probably retire when Grandma Stef decides to so that they can enjoy retirement together.

Uncle Brandon reconnected with a woman named Courtney, and took her and her son back with him to New York. He’s been recommended to teach classical piano at his old performing arts school there. He’s yet to decide if he’ll take the opportunity though.

Uncle Jesus took a job here at Anchor Beach as the Athletic Director. It’s nice to see another friendly face in the halls from time to time. 

As for Aunt Mari, she used her experience planning Dads wedding to start her own wedding planning service. She works all over California and even has some clients in other states, too. It’s a far cry from the 9-5 secretary job she had been working when I was first brought home. She seems a lot happier these days whenever I talk to her, so that’s a good thing.

Aunt Callie is still running her Fost and Found company and is one of the most respected voices on the foster care system today. I spend most summers working for her, actually. I’ve organized events, worked the front desk at her office, been a mentor to younger foster kids, done community outreach, and have even done some public speaking with her at various symposiums on foster care across the state. It’s been a great experience.

Uncle Theo and Ryan are currently attending the local college together. I’ve heard Theo talking to Dad about possibly proposing to Ryan in the future. 

Grandma Jan and Adam are still together. Adam has had a few hiccups in his road to overcoming his past prejudices, and he’s still learning how to speak in a consistently proper way about the LGBT community, but he’s a lot better. His relationship with both my Dads has thawed considerably, but I don’t think Dad will ever fully forgive him.

As for me, I’m still dating Marina. I recently met my Grandma Mary, who is a petite woman capable of intimidating anyone who crosses her. She’s fiery, like Aunt Mari, but also kind, caring and protective. She also can’t cook to save her life, so she has joined Dad on the couch while Daddy and I cook supper whenever she’s over. 

I’ve also been in touch with Alison, Jacob and Kieran. We email or talk weekly and we alternate months of driving to see each other. Dads and I are heading to Los Angeles this month for the twins 8th birthday. It’s hard to believe that they are the same boys who hugged me while I was in the hospital as two-year-olds.

Currently, I sit in 1st period at school, writing a test when the door opens. The entire class peers up to see a figure cloaked in a hooded sweatshirt pass the teacher some kind of a note.

“Sorry I’m late,” the figure says. “It’s my first day, and I got lost.”

“Don’t make a habit of it…” the teacher sighs.

“I won’t, ma’am,” the figure promises.

“Very well,” she nods. “Class? If I could have you stop your tests for one minute please, and get you to turn your attention to the front. We have a new student joining us today!”

I put down my pencil and straighten up. The figure pulls off his hood. 

“I’m Zane Johnson,” he says. “It’s nice to meet you all.”

His eyes scan the room as he says that, eventually locking with mine. Onyx meets cerulean, and I feel the same electricity that I feel every time I’m with Marina pass through me.

I reach out and lace my fingers with hers. I still feel the electricity in the touch.

‘What the hell is going on?’ I wonder.


	23. Chapter 22

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude and Connor get news about potential new additions to the family and notice that something is definitely off about BC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah, as well as any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

Connor and I are standing with my old social worker Bill around the island in our kitchen when the door slamming alerts us to BC’s arrival.

He marches into the kitchen and freezes, spying the three of us. “Hi,” he says tentatively.

“Hi buddy,” I say. “Come and meet Bill, he’s my old social worker.”

BC walks over to us and extends his hand over the island for Bill to shake. “BC Adams-Foster-Stevens, it’s very nice to meet you.”

“Likewise!” Bill returns. “Your Dads have not stopped talking about you since I arrived.”

BC shrugs, slightly embarrassed. “Just how much have you told him?”

“No embarrassing stories, we promise…” Connor laughs. 

BC huffs. “Why am I having a hard time believing you?”

Connor and I shrug, and he sighs. “You two are going to be the death of me!” he groans. “So, why is Bill here?”

“Well, we got in contact with him hoping he might a kid or kids that we could foster…” I tell him. “Bill is here to tell us if he found anything.”

“I knew there was a reason you moved us into this house!” he exclaims.

“You knew we wanted to foster more kids?” Connor questions.

“Of course,” BC laughs. “I’d expect nothing less. I’ve always wondered what it would be like to have a sibling that didn’t try to hurt you because you took away some of their attention.”

“Well,” Bill intones. “How’d you like two?”

Connor’s jaw drops, my eyes arch and BC just freezes. “Excuse me?” I ask.

“I have twins that need placement. Their parents were druggies who OD’d. Now, they need a placement, preferably permanently.”

“How old are they?” Connor asks.

“They’re 10 years old,” Bill states, checking his files. “One is Christian, the other is Hannah. Fraternal twins

He produces pictures. They’re adorable kids. I wave BC over to the island, and he stares down at the photos. “They look adorable,” he says.

“Would you be okay with eventually bringing them into the family, bud?” Connor and I ask in unison. 

“Absolutely,” he nods. “You two have helped me so much. I think if our family has the opportunity to prevent two kids from having to bounce around the system or from growing up too fast, we should take it. I wouldn’t wish on any kid what I had to go through.”

“That’s very mature of you BC,” Bill comments.

“Thank you,” BC says politely. 

“So how long until we have them, Bill?” Connor asks.

“Should be a week. They’re in the hospital because they need gain some strength back. They were severely malnourished.”

“A sad fate that befalls many a foster child,” BC intones.

“Very true,” Bill nods.

“Can we meet Christian and Hannah?” BC asks.

“Maybe tomorrow,” Bill says. “They need to rest for tonight.”

“That’s okay, Bill,” I assure him. “As soon as possible though, we’d like to see them. You have my number and the home number.”

Bill nods. “As soon as they get cleared for multiple visitors, I’ll call.”

Connor and I extend our hands, which Bill shakes. “Thank you, Bill,” I say.

“It’s my pleasure,” he says, extending his hand to BC. “It was nice to meet you, BC. From what I’ve seen in our short acquaintance, your Dads have every reason to be as proud of you as they are.”

“Thank you, Bill,” he replies.

Bill picks up his suitcase. “I’ll see myself out. We’ll be in touch…”

The three of us are left in our kitchen to an easy silence. The door opens and closes before the three of us turn our attention to each other.

“How was your day, buddy?” Connor asks BC.

His eyes flick away briefly. “It was fine…” he lies.

My eyes narrow into slits, analyzing my son. Whatever he’s lying to the two of us about must be weighing on him heavily. I decide against my general nature not to press him on it… at least for now.

“Did anything exciting happen?” I ask. It’s hard to miss the shock turning into relief on BC’s face. He must have been expecting me to call him on his bluff. 

“A new kid started,” he replies. “A kid named Zane."

"Well, that’s nice,” I say.

My son only nods. “If you don’t mind, I have a bit of homework to do before dinner.”

“Of course,” Connor and I chorus. “We’ll call you down when dinner’s ready.”

“Thanks,” he says. “I love both of you.”

“We love you too,” Connor and I say. 

He gives us each a hug, and then he’s out of the kitchen.

“That went better than expected,” Connor breathes, relieved. 

“It did, but did you see how he acted after Bill left?” I question.

Connor nods. “There was something off. It was weird.”

‘Yeah, tell me about it!’ I think.

Out loud, I say, “I think we should just do what we’ve always done. Let him come to us. It’s obvious something happened, and it’s effecting—”

“You think something happened today?” Connor panics. “Maybe with the new kid?”

“Perhaps,” I muse. “He’ll tell us when he’s ready… Now go watch ESPN or something while I get dinner started!”

“You don’t have to ask me twice!” he says, hastening from the room. I laugh at him on his way out, before turning on the stove.

*******  
Dinner is very quiet. A stark contrast to how it usually is. Connor and I try to make some conversation, but BC, for the most part, refuses to bite.

It isn’t until all the plates, glasses and cutlery are loaded into the dishwasher that BC speaks up.

“I have some more homework to finish, but could I talk to you both after?” he asks.

“Absolutely!” Connor and I agree.

He nods, and exits the room without a word.  
*******  
It’s nearly 10:00 PM at night when BC finally comes into the living room, where Connor and I are watching a movie. 

“Hey,” he says.

“Hi, bud,” we chorus.

“I’m done my homework,” he states. “Can we have that talk now?”

“Of course,” I nod. Connor sets about turning off the television, before the two of us focus our undivided attention on BC.

He sits down on the couch with us, inhaling and exhaling deeply. “Before I begin, I need to ask you this: Will you both still love me the same as you always have, regardless of what I have to tell you?”

Yes,” Connor and I say, without hesitation.

He inhales and exhales again. “I know I acted weird after Bill left, but there was a reason for that… something happened today at school…”

“Was it another comment about us?” Connor asks. “If the two of us have to talk to Grandma Lena…”

“No, that won’t be necessary,” BC assures. “It had nothing to do with you. It had to do with me… and the new kid I was telling you about.”

“Did you get in a fight?” Connor guesses.

“Babe,” I scold. “Let him finish please, preferably before jumping to any conclusions…”

He looks sheepish. “Sorry,” he says, addressing it as much to myself as BC.

“Apology accepted, Dad,” BC informs him.

“Yes, you are forgiven babe,” I tell him. “Now, go on BC…”

“Well, the new kid came to class late, and when he introduced himself, he looked around. His eyes locked with mine… and I felt something.”

Understanding crosses my features. I can see out of the corner of my eye that my husband has a similar look on his face too. “Buddy,” I ask. “Are you telling us that you may have feelings for another boy?”

He inhales and exhales, before looking us both square in the eye. “Yes…” he says, finally.


	24. Chapter 23

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family has a heart-to-heart, and meets Hannah and Christian for the first time...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah, as well as any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

“Yes…” my son says, finally answering Jude’s question about whether or not he had feelings for a boy.

Our response is immediate. We wrap him in a two-way hug. He begins crying, and hugs us back tightly.

“You have absolutely nothing to be ashamed of, okay?” Jude tells him.

“Daddy’s right, kid,” I nod in agreement.

I feel him nod against us, as he continues sobbing. I pull away slightly, and wipe his tears. “You’re okay, bud,” I whisper, kissing the top of his head.

His breathing is shallow, but he’s slowly calming down. 

“Do you want me to go make you some tea?” Jude asks him.

“Yes,” BC heaves out quietly. 

Jude retracts his arm from around BC and pushes himself up. I see him walk out of the room and to the kitchen. BC burrows himself deeper into my body. I wrap both my arms around him tightly and whisper reassurances.

Jude comes back with the tea, setting it on the coffee table. “You have to sit up, buddy,” he says gently. 

BC complies and takes the mug into his hands, sipping carefully. “Thank you,” he says.

“Anytime,” Jude replies. “Now, are you okay to tell us what happened?”

BC nods, inhaling and exhaling. “We were writing a test in English class today, and a new student came in late. He introduced himself, and looked around the room. He locked his eyes with mine, and I felt a charge of electricity pass between us. I reached out and grabbed Marina’s hand and I still felt the electricity that I always have. I’m so confused Dads…”

“We understand, buddy,” Jude and I chorus. “Discovering your sexual identity is often a very confusing thing.”

He chuckles slightly. “Tell me about it… Will you help me understand it all?”

“Of course,” we answer at the same time. “It’s about time we had a certain… talk with you, anyways.”

He blanches in horror. “Oh, no… not The Talk Dads. Please… anything but that,” he pleads.

“I’m sorry, buddy,” I chuckle. “It has to be done…”

BC groans, causing Jude and I to laugh. 

“If it makes you feel any better, BC,” Jude intones. “You should’ve heard Grandma Lena when she had this conversation with me. Talk about awkward and embarrassing…”

BC’s cerulean eyes glint in amusement. “Oh, really…” he says, eyebrows arching. “Do tell, Daddy.”

Jude blushes crimson. “Absolutely not!” he declares, embarrassed. “You mister, are the master of deflection attempts. Well, this is about you, not me!”

“Well, you brought it up…” BC says faux-innocently. 

“Well forget that I did!” Jude snaps. “Let’s get this over. The first thing you need to know is that…”  
*****  
After an awkward conversation for all involved, the three of us go to bed. We wake up, and BC is in a noticeably better mood. There’s a message on the machine as we prepare breakfast. I press the button on the answering machine as BC and Jude work out of a pan each on eggs and home fries. I was allowed to put some toast in the toaster, before I was relegated to simply watching the Executive Chef and his Sous Chef move gracefully around the kitchen. 

Bill voice rings out through the room: “Hi Jude, Connor and BC, its Bill. Christian and Hannah have been cleared for multiple visitors, so you three are free to come at any time between hospital visiting hours. We’ll talk again soon. Take care!"

“Yes!” BC exclaims excitedly, turning to face me. “Can we all go after school?”

Jude and I chuckle at his excitement. “Sure buddy,” I tell him. 

My son lights up. “I’m so excited!” he chimes.

“We’re glad,” Jude intones. 

BC finishes his portion of the cooking, and promptly seats himself at the table.

“Come on!” he says impatiently. “Make up your plates and let’s go!”

Jude and I huff. I peck him on the lips.

“We’re coming bud,” I tell him. “You need to slow down…”  
*****  
As we walk into Sacred Cross Hospital, I steel myself. There are a lot of bittersweet memories here, and I always relive them whenever we have to come here for any reason.

We work our way up to the Pediatrics unit. Bill is waiting by the nurse’s station for us. “Are you ready to meet them?” he asks.

“Yes please!” BC says eagerly, and Bill chuckles.

“Well, all right then,” he says. “Follow me.”

We wind through corridors before stopping at what appears to be a playroom. I spot them instantly: two kids huddled closely together playing blocks. One has blond hair like BC and I, and the other has brown hair like Jude. They both have striking green eyes.

BC immediately goes to them. “Hi, I’m BC,” he says to them. “Can I play with you?”

Jude and I smile at the interaction. We both already know that BC will be a great big brother.

We turn to face Bill, who is marveled at how BC is interacting with Christian and Hannah. “Your kid is something else,” he tells us. “Not every kid takes to foster siblings as well as he has…”

“Bill,” Jude says. “BC was in the system. He knows what it’s like. He’s been working with Callie for the past few summers, and he… has some personal experience with less-than-stellar foster siblings.”

I shudder at thoughts of Michael Callahan, and offer my arm to Jude. “Shall we join them?” I ask.

He nods. “Lead the way, my wonderful husband…”

The two of us join BC, Christian and Hannah in playing blocks. When Bill announces to them that the three of us will be taking them home when they’re better, they seem excited. Hannah flings herself at BC, engulfing him in an excited hug, which he returns. Christian is more reserved and quiet. He’s happy for his sister, but something tells me that he’ll be a little like Callie when she first arrived at the Adams-Foster house.

We excuse ourselves for a walk, while BC continues to play with the twins. We leave him in charge of keeping them out of too much trouble, and set off down the hall with Bill, until we reach a sitting room. Bill fishes some paperwork out of his briefcase, and we read and sign it. He gives us a little bit of a background on the twins, handing us two files.

“But isn’t there only supposed to be one record?” I ask. “Would they not have shared it?”

“All of this,” Bill clarifies, indicating the files. “Is one case record. I took the liberty of separating the pertinent information you need to know, with the stuff that you would rather wait for them to tell you… let’s just say that Williams little stunts and Jude and your reactions to them…” he trails off.

“We get it, Bill,” Jude declares. “Thank you.”

He shakes both of our hands, before gathering his suitcase and making his exit, reminding us that he will be by the house to check on us every month. 

Jude and I sit back in our chairs. I sigh. 

“Everything okay?” Jude asks.

“Everything’s fine,” I smile. “I just had a long day is all.”

He moves from his chair into my lap, wrapping his arms around my neck, and pressing a kiss to lips. “Do you think room 325 is empty?” he asks.

Somewhere in my mind, I know that room number. Suddenly, it dawns on me. “My old hospital room!” I exclaim.

“Very perceptive,” Jude says approvingly.

“It may be,” I tell him. “Why?”

He tightens his hold on my body. His breath ghosts my ear lowly. “I may or may not have a few ideas…”

My eyebrows arch, and I scoop him up bridal style. “Let’s go find out then!”


	25. Chapter 24

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC prepares for his first day as a big brother and gets some news at school that he would rather not have received...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah, as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

The ringing of my alarm clock pulls me from the depths of sleep. I groan and roll over, silencing the offending noise before rolling onto my back and staring at the ceiling.

Today is my first day as a big brother, and I’m both excited and nervous about that. My siblings, Christian and Hannah, they’re going to look up to me. I have to set a good example. I have to be a better big brother than Michael ever was to me…

“You will be,” I hear. 

I turn and spy both of my father’s in the doorway. “Did I say that out loud?” I ask.

Dads laugh. “Would we have responded if you didn’t?” they ask.

I pull the covers off my body and stand on stiff legs. “Touché, you two!” I say. “Now, what’s for breakfast Daddy?”

“Well, what do you want?” he asks. “We have time…”

My Dad looks at his watch. “I don’t!” he says hurriedly, running to the kitchen.

“Don’t burn the house down, Con!” Daddy calls after him, before turning to me. “We better go watch him…”

“Yes, we better,” I agree with a laugh, knowing how inept Dad is in the kitchen. 

“Damn it!” we hear him say, and immediately, the two of us rush to the kitchen, where smoke has begun to billow out.

We hear running water, and more smoke floods the room, before subsiding. Daddy huffs in exasperation, and looks to me. “I swear, BC, your father will be the death of me one day…”

I laugh. “I think that goes for the both of us.”

“I thought I told you not to burn the house down, Con…” Daddy says warningly.

Dad looks down sheepishly. “Sorry, babe…” he trails off. 

I move to the sink, seeing the pan my father was cooking in. “Geez Dad!” I exclaim. “What on Earth were you trying to cook?”

“Bacon,” he mumbles, embarrassed.

“Could you not have waited all of five minutes for Daddy and I to get here?” I question.

“I was running short on time… and I was hungry…” he reasons.

“Of course you were, babe,” Daddy huffs, kissing Dad on the cheek. He goes to the fridge and pulls out a plate of bacon, placing it on the island. 

“Heat that up and go, Con,” he orders.

Dad leans across the island to peck him. “You’re a saint, Judicorn!” he praises, causing Daddy to scowl. 

I laugh at the interaction. Dad places the bacon in the microwave and sets the timer. I pour myself a glass of milk and sit down at the table. 

The timer for the microwave goes off. Dad extracts the plate from it, and takes the bacon into his hand. He bites into it, and savors the taste. “God, that’s good.”

“I’m glad,” Daddy says. “Now don’t you have to get going?”

Dad’s eyes pop open, reaching comically wide proportions. He looks at the clock and immediately runs for the entranceway. “Bye Jude, bye BC!” he calls. “I love you!”

The door slams shuts. Daddy looks to me. “So, now that we don’t have to worry about your father burning down our kitchen (or worse), what do you want to make?”

After breakfast, Daddy drives me to school before heading to his office. “Remember that Bill will be by with the twins tonight before dinner,” he tells me, as I exit the vehicle. 

“I won’t forget,” I promise him. Both my Dads know how excited I’ve been for this. It’s all I can talk about lately. Marina has also gotten an earful. 

“I’m just saying,” he says.

“I know,” I tell him, rolling my eyes behind closed lids.

“Have a good day, buddy,” he tells me. “I love you.”

“I love you, too,” I reply.

I step away from the curb and the car squeals away. I turn and face Anchor Beach. It isn’t long before I’m tackled by a black-haired, green-eyed blur. “Hi!” Marina says. 

“Hi,” I smile, hugging back.

She disentangles from me. “How was your night?” she asks, linking our hands together. 

“It was good,” I reply. “This morning though, my Dad was in a hurry and tried cooking bacon…”

“Oh, God!” Marina groans. “Even I know that your Dad is absolutely hopeless in the kitchen. Remember the time last year, just after you moved when he attempted to make us pizza for dinner? We ended up having your Daddy pick us up a pizza on his way back from work.”

I sink back into the memory of that night.

*Flashback*

“Dads, I’m home!” I call, as Marina and I enter the apartment. 

“In the kitchen!” I hear my Dad call out.

The two of us make our way to the kitchen, after only a few wrong turns. It’s going to take a while to get used to an over 3000 square feet house when I’ve been living the last year of my life in a small 1200 square feet, 2-bedroom apartment, let me tell you.

We walk in to see my Dad working on his laptop. “You’re home early,” I note. “Where’s Daddy?”

“He had an emergency come up at work,” Dad tells me. “He’ll be back by dinner.”

“Okay,” I nod.

My Dad looks up from his laptop. “Oh. Hello, Marina!” he says cheerfully. 

“Hello, Mr. Adams-Foster-Stevens,” she responds. “It’s always a pleasure to see you.”

“Marina,” Dad scolds. “How many times have Jude and I told you to call us by our first names?”

She pretends to ponder. “Too many,” she says.

Dad huffs. “There’s no chance of that ever happening, is there?” he asks her.

“Nope,” she says cheekily, popping the p.

Dad rolls his eyes playfully at his antics. “I thought so,” he sighs in faux-annoyance. “What are you two up to?”

“Just homework,” I mumble. 

“‘Just’ homework?” Dad repeats, accentuating the just with an eyebrow arch.

“Dad!” I exclaim, blushing furiously.

He and Marina laugh at my embarrassment. “You aren’t supposed to be laughing at this!” I snap at her.

“I’m sorry,” she says, touching my cheek. “You’re just too cute when you’re embarrassed.”

I blush even redder, causing a fresh wave of laughter to ripple through both of the other occupants in the room.

“Traitor,” I grumble sourly, pouting and crossing my arms over my chest.

Marina leans in and pecks my lips lightly. “Lighten up, BC!” she chides. “We’re just having a little fun. Now let’s go get our homework done!”

“Fine,” I pout, and she drags me by the hand to the living room.

“Doors open!” Dad calls.

“Dad!” I whine. 

I swear my parents will be the absolute death of me one day. They’re so embarrassing sometimes…

Hours later, Marina and I finish our homework and return to the kitchen to get a drink. We hear my Dad pick up his phone.

“Hey Jude,” he says.

“You’re stuck at the office?” Dad queries after a brief pause. “What am I supposed to feed BC and Marina?”

“You have the ingredients for pizza?” Dad asks. “Okay then. I’ll see you when you get home. I love you.”

He disconnects the call. “Who’s up for pizza?” he asks Marina and I.

My eyebrows furrow. “Are you sure that you can manage that, Dad?” I ask, incredulously.

“Of course!” Dad scoffs. “I’m not that bad in the kitchen, mister.”

“You can barely make toast,” I deadpan. “Maybe I should just do it…”

“Absolutely not!” Dad says resolutely. “You kids go watch television or something. I’ve got this.”

“Okay…” I say, unconvinced.

30 minutes later, we see smoke pouring out of the kitchen. We hear my Dad cough and curse.

I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial my Daddy’s number. I put it on speakerphone.

“Hey, BC!” his voice says, coming over the line.

“Hi Daddy!” I say.

“Hi Mr. Adams-Foster-Stevens,” Marina adds.

“Hi Marina!” he responds. “What can I do for both of you? I’m nearly home.”

“We need you to pick up a pizza for us,” Marina says sweetly.

“Did your Dad burn it?” he asks me.

“Is that even a question?” I respond, laughing. “Of course he did! You know he’s completely inept in the kitchen.”

“Did you offer to do it instead?” he continues his questioning.

“Yep,” I nod, popping the p. 

Marina and I hear him sigh. “Stubborn as always… I’ll make a detour. I’ll be home in about 15 minutes. Can you and Marina go make sure your father is alright, BC?” he asks.

“Okay,” I say.

“Thanks. We’ll take stock of the damage together when I get home, after we eat.”

“Sounds good,” I agree.

“I love you, buddy,” he says.

“I love you too, Daddy,” I say.

The call drops. I haul myself, offering my hand to Marina. “Shall we?” I question.

She huffs, placing her hand in mine. “We shall,” she nods.

I haul her up and the two of us make our way to the kitchen. Dad is wearing an apron, and is covered in black marks, holding a burnt out pan.

“Oh, Dad…” I sigh, rubbing my face.

*End Flashback*

I’m pulled out of my memory by Marina’s voice. “Earth to BC!” she says.

“Sorry,” I mumble. “Just got lost in the memory. That was hilarious!”

“Typical BC,” Marina grumbles. “Always lost in space. It was funny though!”

“Yes, it was…” I nod, trailing off when I see that onyx eyes have found me. I tear my gaze, and when I look back at them, they hold hurt.

Marina notices. “You okay?”

“Fine,” I lie.

Her eyes narrow into slits. “BC…” she says. “Tell me. You’ve been avoiding him like the plague for the past week. Why?”

‘Oh, nothing major. I just may have feelings for the guy…’ I think to myself. 

Out loud, I tell her, “I just get a bad vibe from him.”

She seems to buy it. “Okay, then,” she says. “I can understand that. Just… make an effort to get to know him. He may not be as bad as you think…”

Marina is the queen bee here at Anchor Beach. She knows everybody, and everything about everybody. Chances are, she knows something about Zane that I don’t.

“Marina…” I say. “What do you know about him that you’re not telling me?”

“I… I don’t know anything,” she says, nervously. “What makes you think that I do?”

“You know everything,” I deadpan. “The only reason you’d ever make a statement like that was if you knew something that I didn’t. Now, spill.”

She sighs. As she is about to open her mouth, the bell rings, signaling the 10-minute period in which we must get to our classes.

“Saved by the bell,” she breathes. 

“Yes, indeed,” I agree. “But I expect an explanation later…”

“I promise,” she says, leaning up to peck me on the cheek. “Have a good day! I’ll see you in English.”

“I’ll be there,” I confirm.

She walks away.

‘And so will Zane…’ I think to myself.

I’m going to have to talk to him at some point. And Marina too. I can’t hide this from her. Not as a best friend, and certainly not as her boyfriend.

I make a mental note to talk to my family about how to have conversations with both of them. Dads, Grandma Stef and Grandma Lena, and Uncle Theo and Ryan should definitely be able to help me…

At least, I hope they will.  
*****  
My day is uneventful until I get to English class. I steel myself before I walk into class, hoping to avoid the piercing onyx eyes that will unquestionably seek me out, as they’ve done for the past week.

I have to hand it to Zane, he definitely is persistent. I don’t know how much longer I can hold out on him.

His onyx eyes are on me as soon as I walk in the door to class. I can feel them following me. The gaze is intense, and I almost lose the nerve to ignore him.

But I don’t. I ignore him, just like every other day, and take a seat at my assigned desk, twining my fingers with Marina, who offers me a bright smile, and a quick peck.

“I missed you,” she says.

“I missed you too,” I reply, turning my head to the front of the room, where our teacher has just entered.

“Good morning class,” she says. “Today, I’m going to be assigning a project that you will have to do in partners.”

I feel Marina squeeze my hand. We always look forward to doing partner projects together. It gives us more time than normal to be with each other, and we actually work really well together.

“I’ll be assigning the pairs,” the teacher announces, and suddenly, I’m not quite so confident that I’ll be paired with Marina.

‘Just don’t let me get paired with Zane…’ I think to myself. ‘She can pair me with literally anyone else but him…’

“BC Adams-Foster-Stevens,” she says, causing me to snap out of my thoughts. “Given how you and Ms. Reyes worked so well together on our last partner project, and given the fact we’ve just had a new student join our class last week, I’ll be pairing you with… Zane Johnson.”

I look over at Zane, and he is grinning like he won the lottery. I’ve been avoiding him and he knows it. If we’re to do well on this project, we’ll have to work together, as much as I would prefer we didn’t.

Any hope of continuing to avoid him just went completely out the window.

I officially hate my life right now…


	26. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The twins arrive at the house, but not before Callie calls with some unexpected, and wholly unwelcome, news regarding a face from the past...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

The twins come home today, for the first time. And truthfully, that is the only thing that is getting me through today. The thought that, even with all of the bad that I have to deal with as part of my job, at least Connor, BC and I will be able to give Christian and Hannah a good, safe, loving home. At least we can prevent those two from bouncing around the system aimlessly. At least we can prevent them from growing up way too fast.

Callie and I weren’t lucky like that. But we were lucky in the end, to find the Adams-Fosters. And now, thanks to them and Rita and Bill, we have careers dedicated to helping the very kids that we see so much of our old selves in. I’m officially the top social worker in San Diego, and Callie is one of the most respected voices on foster care in America.

I’m just leaving a routine home inspection, and getting in my car when I notice a message from her on my phone. I put it on speaker and begin driving home for the night as he voice sounds throughout the vehicle:

“Hey Jude, it’s me. Listen, I know you have the twins coming home tonight but I really need to talk to you, Connor and BC. I’ve just found out something that could put all of our family, especially me, in a great deal of jeopardy. I need help, little brother. Call me back when you can. I love you.”

I’m immediately alert. My sister hasn’t sounded this vulnerable in years. Whatever she needs to talk about must be big.

I touch the button on my steering wheel that enables hands-free calling.

“Say a command,” the computerized voice drones.

“Call Callie,” I say clearly.

“Calling Callie…” the voice announces. The call connects after the first ring.

“Hey Jude,” breathes the voice on the other end.

“Hey Cal,” I greet her. “I just got your message. You’re okay to swing by the house and talk with us. Bring AJ, and the two of you can meet the twins, okay?”

“Okay,” she breathes.

“I’m not going to lie, Callie,” I tell her. “You have me really, really concerned right now.”

“Well, I wish I could assuage your concerns, but I can’t,” she says. “This is big. It could cause a firestorm if we don’t contain it.”

“Okay, I believe you,” I tell her. “I’m just driving home from work now. I’ll be home in 15 minutes or so. I know BC was walking home with Marina, so he’ll be home if you get there before me. I’m going to call Connor and tell him you’re coming over, okay?”

“You do that,” she says. “I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, Callie,” I tell her.

“Love you too, little brother,” she says.

The call disconnects, and I immediately dial Connor.

“Hey, babe,” his voice answers. 

“Hey love,” I reply. “I’m on my way home from work. Callie is going to stop by. She needs to talk to you, BC and I. It’s apparently urgent.”

“Jude…” Connor sighs. “You know we have the twins coming by with Bill tonight.”

“Babe, she sounded so desperate and vulnerable. I haven’t heard her like that in years,” I reason. “I know we have the twins coming with Bill, so I invited Callie and AJ to come meet them. That way, we’ll still be there for the twins, but also for Callie. She needs us, Connor…”

“I know,” he breathes. “I’ll delegate to my staff and I’ll be home from the stadium as soon as I can.”

“Okay,” I say. “I love you, babe. I’ll see you soon.”

“I love you, too,” he responds.

I disconnect the call, and focus on getting home. The whole drive, Callie’s message and thoughts of the twins are never far from my mind.  
*****  
Arriving home, I rush out of my vehicle and swing the front door to the house open. “I’m home!” I call. 

“In the kitchen!” BC calls.

I follow his voice and see Callie and AJ sitting at our kitchen table across from BC, with Callie looking stressed out of her mind.

BC fixes me with a look. ‘What’s going on, Daddy?’ his eyes ask.

‘Later…’ I return, and he nods.

Right now, I have my older sister to attend to. I drop my briefcase to the floor with a clatter and move to take her into an embrace. 

“You’re okay, Cal,” I reassure her. “Whatever it is, you’re not alone, okay? We’ll take care of it. All of us, together. That’s what family does, right?”

I feel her nod into my chest. I share a look with AJ and BC, who are looking at me with wide eyes. BC has never seen Callie quite like this before. AJ has, and he’s the one who can usually calm her, but right now, she needs me, and he knows it. 

We hear the door swing open, and I know Connor has returned home. He comes into the kitchen, and freezes, seeing Callie. 

“Hey, everyone…” he says carefully. “What’s going on?”

Callie straightens up, wipes her eyes, and says, “Today, I received a threatening phone call to my office. This call threatened me and our family, my business and my reputation with irreparable harm.”

AJ's expression darkens. “Who was it, Cal?”

She inhales and exhales, looking at each of us. “Justina Marks,” she breathes out. 

‘Okay… I was not expecting that…’

“Justina Marks?” I question. “You mean the pro-privatization social care advocate who you fired years ago?”

She nods. “She’s threatening to end my career and “expose” me the same way I did her unless I agree to everything she wants…”

“And what is it that she wants, Cal?” I ask.

Callie exhales, and hands me a tablet. “This is her list…”

I scan it over:

1) A public, formal apology to me over your heel turn at the foster care symposium  
2) 50% equity stake in the company that I helped to expand  
3) For Jude Adams-Foster-Stevens to place a percentage of all kids in his care into privatized foster homes

I look up. “Has this woman lost it?” I ask. “There is no way in hell I’ll be placing kids in my jurisdiction into privatized homes.”

“It gets worse…” Callie shudders. 

I continue reading:

4) A formal statement from Callie Hensdale (née Adams-Foster) praising the benefits of privatization and calling for the reintroduction and passing of Bill SB-3301 in the Statehouse  
5) An executive job at San Diego Social Services arranged for by Jude Adams-Foster-Stevens, accompanied by a glowing personal recommendation  
6) A formal pardon on all charges against me, and a formal apology by Captain Roberts and Officer Stefanie Marie Adams-Foster of the San Diego police department for their impropriety in the handling of the case against me  
7) A monetary sum of $1.5 million dollars for irreparable damage to my professional career, and for pain and suffering.

Failure to comply with all demands will result in a hostile takeover of the company founded by Callie Hensdale, amongst other actions that could include the revocation of the foster licenses of Jude and Connor Adams-Foster-Stevens, the loss of badge by Stefanie Marie Adams-Foster and the removal of Lena Adams-Foster as Principal of Anchor Beach Charter School.

Sincerely,  
Justina Marks

I pass the tablet around, so that AJ, Connor and BC can read the list. BC pales. AJ and Connor shake with barely controlled anger. 

“Who does that woman think she is?” Connor blusters.

“Does she think she can just come out of the woodwork 10 years later and threaten our family?” AJ demands.

“Apparently so…” Callie sighs, rubbing her forehead. “I don’t know what else we can do though…”

“We have to do something!” BC exclaims.

“We will,” I say firmly.

Callie’s head snaps up. “And what will we do, Jude?” she snaps at me. 

“We’ll fight back,” I say, looking around at those assembled. “Connor and I did the same thing with Dean Williams. We’ll do it again with Justina, but we might have to use multiple tactics to pull it off.”

“Would that work?” everyone questions me.

“I can’t say for sure, but, if we have to go down, at least we’ll go down fighting…”

Callie exhales and nods. “I’m in.”

AJ looks at me as well, before taking Callie’s hand and squeezing. “I’m in too,” he says.

“Count me in too, Judicorn!” Connor agrees. 

“And BC makes four!” my son adds. “If we can get the rest of the family on board too, we’ll be unstoppable.”

“I’ll make the call now,” Connor excuses himself.

Beside Callie, AJ laughs. “The twins are going to have one hell of a homecoming…”  
*****  
Our entire family ends up joining us for dinner. Brandon and Courtney even call in on video chat from New York, as we brief our family on the actions and threats of Justina Marks. By the time dinner is over, we have managed to get them all to join our crusade against her.

Brandon and Courtney disconnect the video call to book a flight back to San Diego. The rest of the family goes about helping to clean up the dishes. I’m exempt however, as are BC and Momma, because we cooked everything.

The doorbell rings, and BC and I go to answer it together. We see Bill standing behind the twins. “Hi,” he says, as Hannah immediately launches herself at BC, knocking him backwards.

I see Christian roll his eyes in the corner of my vision. I just know he’s going to be so much like Callie. God knows what these two have seen and been through over the years.

“Come on in Bill, Christian,” I say, as BC and I step aside to allow them entry into our home.

We lead Bill and the twins to the kitchen, and his eyes widen as he takes in our entire family. 

Mariana immediately descends on the twins, wrapping them up in one of her infamously tight hugs.

Bill watches, amusement flickering in her eyes at my sister’s behavior. “I wasn’t aware that you two were having a family gathering tonight,” he tells me.

Connor has come off of drying dishes to greet the twins and talk to Bill. He wraps his arms around me, pulling me back into his body. “Trust me Bill,” he says. “Neither were we…”


	27. Chapter 26

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The aftermath of the surprise family dinner... BC has another conversation about his feelings with his Dads

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson and the twins, Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

As much as I love our family, having them over can be a hassle. We literally had all the Adams-Fosters and their significant others, my father and Jan, Theo and Ryan, and Mike all join us for dinner.

A ton of planning, food, laughter and dishes later, I collapse on the couch dramatically. Jude laughs at my display.

“You’re so dramatic, babe,” he chuckles.

“But I’m tired!” I whine.

“I know you are, and I am too,” he says. “But we need to get the kids in bed before we even think about it ourselves.”

“How are we going to do this, Jude?” I question. “Deal with Justina, the kids, work? It seems like it’s too much.”

He leans over and pecks me. “It’s not going to be easy, Con,” he tells me. “But nothing worthwhile ever is. We’ll make it work.”

“We also do, don’t we?” I ask.

“Yes, we do,” he confirms.

I burrow my body into him, feeling all my stress immediately evaporate as he wraps his arm around my shoulder, squeezing comfortingly.

We sit there, not moving a muscle, just reveling in each other’s presence and the calm that only we can provide each other when a voice pierces our reverie.

“Dads?” BC calls carefully. 

We straighten up and peer back at him, seeing him standing there, looking nervous.

“What’s up, bud?” Jude asks. 

“Can I talk to you?” he asks.

“We have to put the twins to bed,” I say. “Why don’t you help us and then we can sit down and talk?”

“Sure,” he nods.

The three of us fine Hannah and Christian in Christian’s new room. We clear our throats and the two of them look up.

“It’s time for bed now, you two,” I say.

It’s impossible to miss the way Christian rolls his eyes at my statement, but he complies, pushing himself up from the floor.

“Hannah?” Jude questions. “Why don’t you go with BC, and he’ll tuck you in. We’ll be in when we finish tucking in Christian.”

“You don’t need to tuck me in,” Christian says immediately. “I can do it myself.”

“We know you can,” I say patiently. “We’re doing it because we want to. Now let BC take Hannah, okay?”

Christian’s eyes widen in shock at my words, and he releases Hannah’s hand with no further reservation, fight going out of his eyes. For the first time, he looks like a regular 10-year-old.

Hannah places her hand in BC’s larger one, and he leads her away. Christian glares daggers at him as the two of them retreat.

“He can’t replace me...” he mutters, in what he probably assumes is a quiet tone. Both Jude and I hear him.

“He’s not trying to replace you,” Jude says gently. “You’re her brother, and we respect that, but we want you to realize that you’re not alone anymore. We’re here to help you, so that you don’t have to carry the full burden of caring for and protecting her. That isn’t your job, and it never should’ve been. Your job is to be a kid.”

“I’m all she had—has,” he corrects. “I took care of her, and protected her all on my own. And I did a good job.”

“We’re not saying you didn’t,” I intone carefully. “We’re just saying you don’t have to do that anymore. We’re here to help you and your sister.”

He scoffs. “You’re just foster parents. I’ve heard stories from some kids in my school about their foster parents. You can drop the kind act, already.”

“It’s not an act,” Jude and I chorus.

He sighs. “I’ll believe it when I see it,” he informs us. “Until then, I’m keeping my guard up. Hannah and I were hurt by people who were supposed to love us. I can’t let it happen again.”

“It’s okay to be skeptical,” I tell him. “ Anyone in your position would. Jude and I believe that trust is something that has to be earned. We won’t hurt you, or your sister, but we’re willing to do this on your terms. If you can’t take our word for it, we’re more than prepared to back it up with our actions. Will you allow us to do that?”

He nods. 

“Okay then,” Jude nods, pulling back the covers. “It’s time to go to sleep, okay?”

Christian gets into bed himself, and Jude drapes the covers back over his frame. He snuggles into them.

“Goodnight, Christian,” we say. “Sleep well.”

We close the door, and begin to pad down to Hannah’s room. Peeking in, we see Hannah snuggled into BC’s body, already asleep. 

Our son notices us in the doorway and puts a finger to his lips, before slipping carefully out from under the covers, and joining us. We close the door, and head to the living room.

“She’s so adorable,” BC coos, as he sinks back into the couch. “How was Christian?”

“Stubborn,” I breathe. “But eventually, we got him into bed.”

BC nods. “That’s understandable. I was, remember?”

“Yes, we do,” Jude and I chorus. “All too well, actually.”

Our son rolls his eyes. “Yeah, yeah. I wasn’t that difficult. But I have a feeling Christian might be. The kid has one hell of a glare for a 10-year-old.”

I laugh. “You saw that, did you?”

“Of course,” BC responds. “It was impossible not to.”

The three of us laugh. “I’ll give you that,” I concede.

“So,” Jude intones. “What did you want to talk about?”

“I think…” he says, trailing off to inhale and exhale deeply. “I think I have to tell Marina about my feelings for Zane.”

“That’s not even a question,” I tell him. “You owe it to her to be completely honest about this.”

“I know,” he nods. “I’m her boyfriend. And even if I weren’t, she’s my best friend. She’d deserve to know regardless.”

“That’s very mature of you, son,” I tell him. “So what exactly did you need to talk about?”

“Well…” he trails off.

“Let me guess,” Jude asks. “You want to know how to go about the conversation?”

“Well, yeah…” he admits.

“Just be honest,” Jude advises. “That’s the best thing you can do. Don’t sugarcoat it or dress it up. Just come right out with it. It will be worse if you drag it out, procrastinate and aren’t honest about it. Marina is a tough girl. She’s not fragile. She can handle this.”

I find myself nodding unconsciously in agreement. Jude hit the nail directly on the head. But, then again, he always seems to.

I find my voice. “Your father is right,” I agree. “You need to be honest. And you two need to decide what you’re going to do. Do you want to stay with her?”

He rubs his face. “I don’t know,” he says. He looks up at Jude and I. “I really don’t.”

“That’s okay,” Jude soothes him. “You’ll figure it out. Just follow your heart, and you can never go wrong. It’s what I did, and look where it’s gotten me? A great job, a great husband, a great family. My life couldn’t be more perfect when it isn’t be threatened by a delusional psychotic ex-foster care advocate, or an obsessed adoptive sibling.”

“What are we going to do about Justina?” BC asks.

“Whatever we have to,” Jude tells him. “Either way, she’s going to lose.”

“But you let us worry about that, okay, bud?” I tell him. “If we need your help, we’ll let you know. You focus on your schoolwork, your situation and on being the best big brother you can be to our two new additions, okay?”

“Okay,” he nods. “Thanks, Dads.”

“Anytime, buddy,” Jude and I chorus. “Now, it’s about time you get yourself to bed.”

“I guess it is,” he agrees. “Goodnight.”

“Goodnight,” we say together.

He pads off to his bedroom, and Jude and I push ourselves off the couch as well. We make our way to our bedroom, and quickly crawl under the covers.

He snuggles into me. “Goodnight, Con,” he says. “I love you.”

“I love you too, babe,” I announce. “Sleep well.”


	28. Chapter 27

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC's brotherly instincts kick in when he comforts Hannah after a nightmare. Then, he and Christian reach an understanding. Finally, BC has another encounter with the mysterious Zane that leaves him more frazzled and confused than ever before and after returning home to some exciting news from Theo and Ryan, the family makes their move against Justina Marks...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series and its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

The rain comes down hard on the roof, but that isn’t what wakes me. It’s a hand on my shoulder, shaking me lightly, and a tiny voice calling out to me. “BC,” it says.

My eyes flutter open, adjusting the darkness. I see a small figure at the side of my bed. “Hannah?” I ask, voice thick with sleep. 

“I’m sorry to wake you, but…” she trails off.

I’m now more alert. “But what?” I ask. “What’s wrong?”

She hesitates, biting her lip. 

“You can tell me. I won’t get mad at you,” I vow to her.

“Pinky promise?” she asks hopefully, in a tone that absolutely shatters my heart.

I hook my pinky with hers. “Pinky promise,” I confirm. “Now tell me what’s wrong…”

“I had a nightmare,” she says tremulously, breaking down into little sobs and covering her face with her hands.

I’m out of bed and on her eye level instantly. I take her into a gentle hug. “It’s okay, sweetheart,” I soothe her. “Please don’t cry.”

I pull back to get a look at her. Her hands are still covering her face. “Hannah, love?” I ask. “Can you please look at me?”

She shakes her head. I wrack my brain for any straws I could grasp at. Finally, it strikes me. “Don’t you want to be a big girl?” I ask. 

She lowers her hands so that I can just see barely see her eyes. “I am a big girl!” she declares.

“Well, you’d be a bigger girl if you uncovered your face and told me what was going on,” I tell her. “Can you do that for me?”

She nods, and lowers her hands to her sides.

“Good," I say approvingly. “Now, what was your nightmare about?”

“Mommy and Daddy…” she says carefully.

“Oh sweetheart,” I say, pulling her back into an embrace. I feel her tiny hands wrap around my back. “It’s okay.”

I pull back again, and see that tears are cutting streaks down her face. “Do you want to know a little secret?”

She perks up and nods, causing me to laugh. “It’s a secret I only tell the people I trust the absolute most,” I tell her seriously. “Can I trust you with it, too?”

She nods emphatically. “Yes, yes, yes,” she tells me.

“Okay then…” I say, lowering my voice to a whisper and putting my mouth to her ear, covering it with my hand. “I still have nightmares too.”

Her eyes widen, and she looks at me. “You do?” she asks.

I nod. “Of course. I was in 5 different foster homes before I found my Dads. Not all of them were very happy.”

“Can I give you a hug?” she asks me.

“Sure, I’d love one,” I tell her. She wraps her little arms around me again. 

“Be happy,” she says. “No more sad, okay?”

“Okay,” I agree. “Thank you, sweetheart.”

The moment gets interrupted when I hear a loud smashing sound. Hannah startles in our embrace.

I immediately spring into action. “I need you to stay here, and lock the door behind me, okay? Don’t open it until you hear the password, okay?”

“What’s the password?” she asks.

I think briefly. “Let’s make it nightmare, okay?” I ask.

She nods.

“So, when someone asks you to open the door, ask them for the password. If they don’t get it right, don’t open the door, okay?”

“Okay,” she nods.

“Good,” I tell her. “Now, I’m going to go and see what that was, and then I’ll be back, okay?”

“Okay,” she says, closing the door behind me. I hear it lock, and proceed to make my way down the hallway when a hand clamps on my shoulder, startling me.

I look to find both of my Dads, and I can breathe again. “You scared the hell out me,” I rasp.

“Sorry,” they chorus. “Where are Hannah and Christian?”

“Hannah had a nightmare and came in to wake me. She’s in my bedroom. I had her lock the door,” I tell them. “I have no idea about Christian.”

“Well, he isn’t in his room,” Dad says. “So let’s all go see what or who we’re dealing with here…”

Daddy and I nod. The three of us continue to walk as quietly as possible down the hallway, until we see the light on in the kitchen.

We make our way to the doorway, and see Christian fretting over some shards of broken glass.

“I’ve got this,” I whisper to my Dads.

“Are you sure?” they ask.

“Positive, just let me handle it. You go back to bed. And get Hannah to unlock my bedroom door. The password I gave her was ‘nightmare.’”

“Okay,” they say, padding back down the hallway. I turn my attention to Christian, clearing my throat.

He startles, and looks up at me. “What do you want?” he asks indignantly. 

“Do you need some help cleaning this up?” I ask, answering his question with one of my own. 

He laughs bitterly. “And why would you help me?” he asks. 

“For the same reason I just comforted your sister when she came into my bedroom after having a nightmare,” I tell him. “It’s what siblings do…”

“We’re not siblings!” he exclaims.

“Speak for yourself,” I say. “I consider you and your sister my siblings, even if you don’t feel the same way.”

“Drop the act,” he says. “I’ve had enough of it with your Dads earlier. I know you three are just looking for an excuse to send us away. In fact, I’m surprised you haven’t told them about this yet.”

“They already know,” I inform him. “They came down the hall with me when we heard the smash.”

He blanches. “If they want to send me away, will they at least keep Hannah?” he asks me.

I choose this moment to step forward. I grab the broom and the dustpan and begin sweeping up the glass shards. When I’ve dumped them into the trash, I kneel down in front of him. “You broke a mug, bud,” I soothe. “That’s hardly a reason to send you or your sister away. It was an accident, right?”

His eyes widen, and he nods.

“Listen, accidents happen, okay?” I tell him. “We understand. What were you trying to do?”

He sighs. “I couldn’t sleep, so I wanted to make some warm milk…”

“I’ll do it for you, okay?” I tell him. “Then I think it’s time you and I had a chat. Would that be okay with you?”

He nods. “Yes.”

“Okay then,” I agree. “You can go sit on the couch, and I’ll bring your drink out when I’m done making it.”

He nods cautiously, and I watch him set off for the living room before grabbing another mug from the cabinet and setting about pouring milk from the pitcher into it, before heating it in the microwave.

I remove the steaming mug and pad to the living room, setting the mug on the coffee table in front of Christian. “Be careful,” I warn. “It’s still pretty hot.”

“Thank you,” he says tightly, taking the mug in his hands and blowing on it.

“My pleasure,” I smile, sitting down next to him.

We sit in silence while he works on downing the milk. When he places the now-empty mug back on the coffee table. I turn to him. “Are you okay to have that chat now?” I ask.

He nods.

“Why don’t you start first? What is it about me that has you so on edge?” I ask.

He sighs. “It’s not you entirely,” he confesses. “Although I’m annoyed at how quickly you and my sister seem to have bonded. It’s really just this entire situation. I mean, we just lost our parents, not that they were parents of the year, but still… and now, we’re here and we’re expected to become a part of your family. I don’t know if we can… I don’t know if I can.”

I put a hand on his shoulder. “It’s okay, Christian,” I tell him. “I was exactly like you when I first came here. I had been in 5 different foster homes, and three of them were absolutely awful. I didn’t trust my Dads at first. The more trustworthy they were, the more I wanted not to trust them, but I can tell you it isn’t an act. They really do care. As for my bond with your sister, I’m not trying to replace you. But I do already consider you two as family, and I appreciate it if you’d let me build a relationship with you two. And, as for not feeling as though you can integrate into this family, I was the same way in my first foster home after a drunk driver killed my parents, and put me in a coma. ”

“Seriously?” Christian asks, shocked. “You were in a coma?”

“I was,” I nod. “For a while, anyways. After I woke up, I had to stay in hospital for two weeks."

“Wow!” he breaks in.

Yeah, and by the time my Dads took me home, I was used to being treated poorly. My last foster parents used coffee to keep me awake to do all the chores and then I’d crash. It got to the point where I was completely dependent of caffeine. Dads took me to a doctor a week after I started staying with them, and got my caffeine levels down to normal. Approximately a week later, I had a nightmare and they comforted me. It was that night that I called them ‘Dads’ for the first time.”

“Wow, that was quick,” Christian comments.

“It was,” I nod. “But it felt right.”

“They don’t expect that from us, do they?” he asks.

“Absolutely not,” I say. “I’m guessing that they said they’d do this on your terms, right?”

“How did you know?” he questions.

“They said something similar to me at a few points,” I inform him. And guess what?”

“What?” he asks.

“They mean it. They’ll let you set the pace, just be open and be willing to let them show you that, okay?”

“O—okay,” he agrees.

“Good, now do the two of us have an understanding?” I ask.

“Yes,” he nods.

“Excellent. Do you want to tell me why you couldn’t sleep tonight?” I question.

“Nightmare,” he says simply.

“I understand,” I tell him. “Are you comfortable talking about it?”

“Not yet,” he says. “Maybe at some point I will be.”

“Okay then, that’s fine,” I say. I tentatively wrap my arm around his shoulder, squeezing gently.

He tenses, but eventually relaxes. “Goodnight, Christian,” I tell him.

“Goodnight,” he nods. 

I push myself off the couch and pad back down to my room. I see Hannah sitting on my bed. “Where were you?” she asks curiously. “You said you’d be right back!”

“I was just talking to your brother,” I tell her. “Do you want me to tuck you back into your bed?”

She nods, and dismounts carefully from my bed, grabbing my hand.

I lead her the short distance to her bedroom, and she gets into the bed. I sit down on the edge, and gently stroke her hair. “Goodnight, sweetheart,” I say, getting up.

I’m at the door when I hear her voice. “Can you check under the bed and in the closet?”

“For monsters?” I ask.

She nods.

I laugh lightly. “Sure!” I agree.

When both the underside of the bed, and the closet have been cleared of any monsters, I make my way back to the door. “Goodnight, Hannah,” I say softly.

“Goodnight, BC,” she says.

I close the door, and make my way back to my room. I fall into a deep sleep almost as soon as my head hits the pillow.

I think I’m going to love being a big brother…  
*****  
I wake up dreading the day. Today, I’m going to tell Marina about my feelings for Zane. I hope she takes it well.

I barely get down breakfast, I’m so nervous. As I get driven to Anchor Beach, my anxiety builds, reaching its peak when we pull up in front of the building. I get out with a quick goodbye to Daddy and the twins.

I know Daddy is taking the twins to meet with Grandma Lena today to talk about enrolling them in Anchor Beach, so he’ll be here for a while at least. That thought comforts me slightly. 

My eyes rake the courtyard of the school, looking for Marina, but I don’t find her. I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket. I unlock it to find a new text:

Marina: Not feeling well :( Staying home, today. I’ll probably be back by tomorrow.

‘Great!’ I think. ‘So much for telling her today!’

I text her back:

BC: I’m sorry, love. Feel better! I’ll see you tomorrow, but I’ll probably call you tonight.

I send the message and stuff the phone into the front pocket of my denim jeans as the warning bell rings, signaling that I have ten minutes to get to first period.

I inhale and exhale deeply, before I ascend the steps and enter the school. I make a quick stop at my locker, where I find Zane. He leans against it waiting patiently. I clear my throat to get his attention.

“Excuse me,” I say to him. “I need to get inside my locker to get my books.”

He moves aside and I enter the combination on my padlock. I feel his gaze still on me as I pull open the door and begin putting the books for the first few periods in my messenger bag. His breath ghosts my ear as I hear the final bell go off.

“You can’t avoid me forever,” he says.

“I’m not avoiding you,” I declare resolutely.

“Really?” he asks, and I can feel, rather than see, his eyebrows arch. “What do you call not talking to me for absolutely no reason ever since I started here even though we’re technically supposed to be working on a project together?”

“I call that not giving in temptation…” I say. Immediately I regret those words.

“Temptation?” he asks, testing the word on his tongue. “I tempt you?”

“More than you know…” I mutter. 

“Really?” he asks.

‘Damn it, BC!’ I curse myself. ‘You really need to learn to keep your bloody mouth shut!’

“No, just forget it!” I snap, closing my locker and attempting to get past him.

He grabs my arm and pulls me back. “Do you like me?” he asks, onyx eyes burning.

“Of course I do!” I tell him, hoping to deflect this. “I think you’re an alright guy. I don’t know you all that well, though.”

“Nice try!” he laughs, pearly white teeth glinting off the flourescent lighting. “You like me, like me, don’t you?”

Well there isn’t any point in hiding it now. “Yes,” I say, looking down.

I feel his hand touch my face. Electricity sparks. Before I know what’s happening, I feel a pair of rough, chapped lips press against mine, and I feel fireworks exploding in my veins. I lose myself in the kiss.

Eventually though, I come back to my senses. ‘Marina!’ I think.

I push Zane off me. “What the hell?” he asks.

“I’m sorry,” I tell him. “I can’t do this…”

“Why?” he asks, angered. “I know you felt that.”

“I did,” I admit. “But I have a girlfriend.”

“So?” he asks, cupping my cheek with his hand. 

“I can’t cheat on her,” I say resolutely. “She doesn’t deserve that.”

“She doesn’t have to know,” he whispers lowly. “This could be our little secret.”

“YOU ASS!” I thunder. “Even if she wasn’t my girlfriend, she’s my best friend! Have you absolutely no shame?”

I storm past him, ignoring his call to come back. Once I make it to class, I collapse into my chair, toning out the teacher’s lecture on the importance of showing up for class on time. I press a finger to my lips. I can still feel Zane’s lips there.

‘What the hell am I supposed to do now?’ I ask.  
*****  
I couldn’t focus all day. All I could think of was the kiss I shared with Zane. My stomach is alternating between fluttering excitedly and retching violently. And I still have to tell Marina.

I unlock the front door of the house. “I’m home,” I call.

Theo and Ryan step out from the kitchen, followed by Daddy and the twins. “Hey, BC!” they greet.

“Hey,” I say, before turning to Theo and Ryan. “What are you doing here?”

“We have news,” Theo announces. “We already stopped by the stadium and told Connor.”

“That’s great!” I say. “What is it?”

He holds up his dominant hand. I see a ring glint on his finger. “We’re engaged!” he says excitedly.

“That’s fantastic!” I respond, taking both him and Ryan into a hug, as Daddy looks at his phone.

“Guys, as much as hate to break up the celebration, we have to go,” he announces when he slips the phone back into his pocket.

“What?” I ask. “Why?”

“We’re moving to take down Justina Marks,” he announces. “And it all starts today…”


	29. Chapter 28

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's time to take down Justina...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson and the twins, Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

The atmosphere in the car is tense as the six of us drive to Callie’s office in order to begin enacting our plan to take down Justina Marks.

I feel sorry for Theo and Ryan, and for the twins. Theo and Ryan knew about the plan, but the two of them just got engaged, and if they are anything like Connor and I when we got engaged, the last place they want to be is in this car driving to Callie’s office. 

But that’s exactly what they’re doing. And the twins too. They’re along for the ride, but they aren’t exactly sure what the ride is.

We pull into the office parking lot, and Callie is at the entrance. “Thank God you’re here!” she exclaims, ushering us in.

“Of course, Cal,” I soothe. “Are you ready to get operation Blackmail Backfire off and running?”

She nods, lips in a tight smile, and leads us to the back room of the office, where a film set has been set up. It’s just a canvas, a stool and a camera. The entire rest of the family is there. Adam is behind the camera and Callie takes a seat on the stool.

I should probably endeavor at this moment to explain our plan. It’s very simple. We film this public service announcement, and then Callie and I appear in front of the Statehouse, under the guise of apologizing to Justina, before we play the public service announcement, and exposing Justina (again). Mom, Mike, Connor, Theo, Ryan and Adam are going to go to Justina’s residence as we play the public service announcement and arrest her.

She’ll never see it coming. Or at least, she shouldn’t, until it’s already too late for her to do any of her political maneuvering in an attempt to save her sorry ass.

I pull my focus back to Callie, who is introducing herself, and explaining our foster care journey. She recounts meeting Justina, and how Justina pushed her to support privatization, despite Callie’s stance against exactly that. She describes how Justina used her old best friend’s story for her own personal gain, and how Callie made the decision to turn against Justina, before explaining her baseless blackmail attempt. 

I take my turn in front of the camera, explaining my past, my current career, and explaining my stance against privatization. 

Then BC gets in front of the camera, and talks about his experiences in the system, and with our family. I notice, watching him, that he seems very distant and heavy. Here, but not entirely.

He is followed by Connor, who talks about meeting me, and how the foster care system affected me. 

This continues until everyone has said something. At the end, we all stand together; hands raised, and proclaim that Justina (and others like her) will never win.

Callie steps forward, and says firmly. “Privatization is an unethical practice. Please, join my family and I in standing against it. Because no kid should be sold to the highest bidder.”

Adam rushes to turn off the camera and takes it off the tripod, handing it to BC, who edits the footage together to make it more effective. 

He burns it onto a disc, and we head out of the office. Mom and Mike get in their cruiser. Connor, Adam, Jan, Theo and Ryan get in Adam’s car to go apprehend Justina. Sirens flash and wail as they pull out.

That leaves the rest of us in the parking lot of Callie’s office. Everyone gets in their respective vehicles. Jesus, Mariana, Brandon, Courtney and Mason all head home. Callie, myself, BC and the twins drive to the Statehouse, and explain our situation.

It isn’t too long afterwards that Callie and I are standing on the steps of the Statehouse, behind a podium, and with a news crew training their cameras on us, covering every angle. A screen, a projector and a DVD player form the backdrop. The kids stand to the side.

Callie speaks into the mic. “Thank you for coming,” she says. “I’m Callie Hensdale, founder, President and CEO of Fost and Found. Alongside me, is my brother, Social Worker Jude Adams-Foster-Stevens. We are here today at the request of disgraced former foster care advocate, and my former business partner, Justina Marks. She has requested an apology from me, amongst many other ludicrous demands. She has blackmailed our entire family, threatening multiple careers and happy families. Our family has decided that we cannot let her get away with her disgusting behavior. So, instead of an apology, we’ve shot a public service announcement that we’d like you all to see.”

Callie motions to BC, who plays the PSA. Callie and I step to the side as well, so as to not obstruct the view.

After it ends, we study the news crew. Their mouths are hanging wide open. BC edited in footage of Callie turning against Justina at the foster care symposium, and of Justina telling her friend’s story in addition to all of our testimonials, the hand-holding and Callie’s speech at the end.

I smile at him. He did a fantastic job. He smiles back tentatively, the grin never reaching his eyes.

I’m pulled away from BC and the twins by my cell phone ringing. I see on the Caller ID that it is Connor. 

“Hey, babe,” I greet him.

He says three simple words, and an inerasable smile spreads across my face.

Those three words: “We got her.”


	30. Chapter 29

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The events of last chapter, from Connor's POV... As well, BC tells his Dads about what happened with Zane.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim now ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

Leaving Jude and our family to go arrest Justina is not something I was particularly fond of when I was assigned the duty. I hate being away from my family, even if it is for the shortest length of time.

But I know, at least in this instance, that the dull ache I feel from being separated from Jude will be well worth it in the end. Justina Marks poses a huge threat to not only our entire family, but to the rest of society. Her idea of foster care reform is a self-interested one, designed only to benefit her and her like-minded corporate cohorts. She calls herself an advocate for foster kids, but really, she could care less about the kids, as long as her own pockets get lined with the cash from privatization.

She’s the most dangerous kind of person. One who masks selfish or unethical intentions under the guise of good ones. And I personally can’t wait to take her down. The look on her face when Callie and Jude play that public service announcement is going to be absolutely priceless.

I cackle with glee, causing my fellow passengers to look at me like I’ve gone crazy. “Is it a bad thing that I’m really looking forward to taking this woman down?”

My father laughs. “Not at all…” he says. “Although try to keep the maniacal cackling to a minimum please, son.”

“No promises, Dad!” I laugh.

He chuckles too, and turns his eyes back to the road.

It strikes me just then how well my father and I get along now. Two years ago, I called him Adam, if I spoke of him at all, and now we can actually be in the same car, around the same dinner table, and we’re on normal parent-child terminology again. He’s come a long way, for sure.

He credits Jan and Theo, and its easy to see their influence on him. The way he looks at Jan is the way Jude and I look at each other. It’s a way I never saw him look at my mother. Ever. Not once in the 12 years I lived with both of them. 

The rest of the ride to Justina’s place of residence is quiet. We all know what we have to do, and idle chitchat will do nothing but take our minds away from where they should be. 

I lean against the window, letting the blue and red colors of the sirens paint my face as we wind our way through the San Diego streets until we reach our destination.  
*****  
“Are we ready to do this?” my Dad asks. 

Theo squeezes Ryan’s hand and nods. 

Dad looks to me. “Are you ready, Connor?”

I close my eyes. In that moment, I see Jude, BC, Hannah and Christian. My family. I see a plethora of faceless foster kids. I hear them plead with me to help them.

Jude has always told me he remains a social worker to help the faceless, the voiceless, the one’s who are unable to help themselves. 

Now, it’s my turn to do that. I turn to my father, determination smoldering in my eyes, and nod.

The five of us unbuckle, and meet Stef and Mike at the door. Stef knocks. After a few minutes, the door swings wide, and we come face-to-face with Justina, who looks momentarily stunned to see us all standing there.

Her stoic, professional mask slips back into place. “What the hell do you all want?” she huffs.

“We’ve come to tell you to turn on your TV,” Stef announces. “Callie is going to be appearing on the news to issue her apology to you and to call for your beloved piece of legislation to be reintroduced in the Statehouse.”

Justina looks like she just won the lottery. “Excellent!” she beams. “I knew she’d see sense!”

I bite my lip to keep from chuckling. Callie wasn’t kidding. This woman is absolutely delusional. There is absolutely nothing sensible about her precious legislation.

Justina rambles on excitedly, ushering us into the house. Mike sneaks away from the group to search her house. Now that’s she’s allowed us entry, anything suspicious can be used against her if found.

She pours glasses of wine for her us, and flicks the television on, setting it to the news channel.

Say what you will about the woman, but she’s proving to be a very good host to us. And she’s totally clueless about why we’re really here. In a short time, her smiling, triumphant demeanor will crumble. 

The program comes on, and we see Callie and Jude on the steps of the Statehouse. Jude looks amazing in his suit. It never ceases to amaze me how striking he looks. He could wear a ratty t-shirt and sweatpants and I’d still find him the most attractive man on the planet.

‘Now’s not the time to be salivating at your husband’s appearance, Connor!’ I scold myself internally. ‘You have more important things to concern yourself with.’

All of us watch as Callie speaks. When Callie fails to offer up an apology, as she asked for, instead choosing to show the public service announcement we shot, all the color drains from Justina’s face.

“What’s going on?” she asks frantically, looking at each of us. Mike comes back in the room.

“Justina Marks,” he announces. “You’re under arrest for blackmail, making threats, conspiracy, fraud and slander. You have a right to remain silent, anything you say can and will be used against you in a court of law. You have the right to an attorney. If you cannot afford one, one will be appointed for you. Do you understand your rights as they have been read to you?”

“Burn in hell,” she spits. “You’ll all pay for this!”

Mike drags her away, with her fighting him tooth and nail every step of the way.

I immediately pull out my cell phone and call Jude. On the television, I see him answer it. “Hey, babe,” he greets. 

“We got her…” I tell him.

I see him smile on the TV, and he gives thumbs up to Callie who wraps him in a hug.

I breathe a sigh of relief. Another threat has been dealt with. We’re all safe. I just hope it stays that way this time…  
*****  
To celebrate the fall of Justina Marks, our entire family goes to an Italian restaurant. We order a family-style meal of pastas, salads, breadsticks, pizza and of course, gelato, for dessert.

Near the end of the evening, Theo and Ryan stand up and Theo uses his utensils to make a chime noise on his glass. “Can Ryan and I have your attention, please?” he asks.

Everyone stops. You can hear a pin drop in the restaurant. Theo deposits his glass back on the table, and flashes his dominant hand, exposing the diamond ring on his ring finger to the light in the restaurant. 

There are several gasps from around the table. Jan, my father, Jude, BC, the twins and myself all smile knowingly, as Theo announces, “Ryan and I are engaged!”

Mariana squeals and immediately moves to crush the happy couple in one of her tight embraces. She then excitedly starts discussing the wedding, and offering to help with the planning. 

“I am a wedding planner, after all!” she reasons with them. Her tone is chipper but her face says that if they refuse her offer, there will be hell to pay.

Looking terrified, the two accept, and Mariana brightens at that, immediately peppering them with questions.

It’s Jude who takes pity on the embattled couple and reigns in Mariana. “Mari,” he says gently, but firmly. “Theo and Ryan literally just got engaged. Let them breathe. They agreed to let you plan the wedding, but that doesn’t mean you have to plan the entire wedding tonight.”

Mariana huffs. “Fine, be like that, Judicorn!” she says, crossing her arms over her chest.

The table erupts in laughter at her display of childishness. We’ve come to expect such outbursts from Jesus on occasion, but Mari rarely ever gets like this. It just makes it all the more funny.

Only under a withering death glare (I swear Jude must have given her a few pointers), does all the laughter cease, and we finish our meal.

In the parking lot, Theo pulls me aside. “Can I ask you something?” he says nervously.

“Of course, Theo,” I nod. “I’m your brother, you can ask or tell me anything. You know that.”

“I was wondering… if you would be my best man?” he asks me.

I speak one word, simple, firm and immediate: “Yes.”  
*****  
After dinner, the five of us return home. As we get in the door, Christian and Hannah throw off their coats and rush into the living room to watch TV.

BC watches them with adoration, before turning his attention to us. “Can we talk after we put the twins to bed?” he asks.

“Of course!” Jude and I chorus immediately.

“Okay, then,” he nods. “I’m going to make sure the twins don’t get into too much trouble…”

“You do that, BC,” I laugh.

He makes his way to the living room, and Jude and I retreat to our bedroom. Jude immediately pulls on his tie, loosening it, before shrugging off his suit jacket.

I do the same. “Did I mention how unbelievably hot you looked on TV today?” I question.

Jude blushes. “No, you didn’t…” he trails off.

I step closer to him, and fit my lips over his gently. “Well you looked striking, babe,” I inform him.

“Thank you, love,” he says, pecking me.

“You know…” I trail off. “BC did say he was going to watch the twins. We could…”

“Connor!” Jude squeaks. “With three kids, two of them under the age of twelve in the house? Are you for real?”

“It’s a big house!” I pout. “And we’re far enough away from the living room to protect any innocent ears or eyes.” I peck him on the lips.

He huffs. “Okay, but only because its been too long.”

“That’s my Judicorn!” I beam, and he takes me in a passionate kiss.

“Shut. Up.” he says sternly, punctuating each of the two words with a peck to my lips.

“Gladly, babe,” I inform him, zipping my lips for effect. “Now, you shut up and kiss me…”  
*****  
After our fun, we take a shower together, and towel off, getting into pajamas, and joining our kids in the living room, settling on the couch, where the three of them are watching an animated film.

Jude excuses himself to make a giant bowl of popcorn and the five of us devour it, even attempting to catch pieces of it in our mouth.

Needless to say, we get more popcorn on the floor than in our mouths, but it is still a lot of fun. And it got Hannah and Christian smiling.

The five of us cuddle underneath the mound of blankets and continue watching the movie. Hannah and Christian burrow themselves into BC. They seem to have really taken a shine to him. Christian has been especially clingy recently. I think the two of them have come to an understanding of sorts.

I’m proud of both of them. They did it without the two of us having to intervene. 

Pretty soon, the twins are asleep, and BC carries Hannah to her room to put her into bed. I take Christian, and Jude just sits on the couch awaiting our return.

He isn’t waiting long. The three of us sit on the couch, letting out a synchronized sigh. 

“So, what’s up, bud?” I ask BC.

BC looks at me with wide eyes. “Never attempt to speak cool again, please,” he pleads.

I put my hands up in surrender and nod. “But, in all seriousness, what’s going on?”

He inhales and exhales deeply. “Zane kissed me…” he finally says.


	31. Chapter 30

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC, Jude and Connor have another conversation... BC finally tells Marina about what happened.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

“What did you say?” Dad asks me, seething under tight control.

“I said—” I begin to repeat myself, only to be cut off by Daddy.

“We heard what you said, bud,” he assures me. “It’s a figure of speech. Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I confirm. “A little shaken, and a little confused about things, but fine.”

“How did it happen?” Dad demands.

I breathe in and out. “He was waiting for me at my locker, and told me that I couldn’t avoid him forever. We exchanged some words, and I was about to leave when he pulled me back and kissed me.”

“Did you kiss him back?” Daddy asks.

“For a little while,” I admit, looking down. “But I eventually came to my senses and pushed him off of me.”

“Good boy,” Dads chorus. “Did anything else happen?”

I sigh, looking up. “He got angry with me. Asked me why I pushed him off me. Told me that he knew I’d felt the sparks between us. And—” my voice breaks, trailing off.

Immediately, Dads rush to encircle me in a sandwich hug. “It’s okay, BC,” they soothe as I struggle to maintain my composure. “And what?”

“I liked it,” I admit. “Is that wrong?”

“Absolutely not,” they say firmly. “Why on Earth would you think that? Look at the two of us, look at Grandmas, and look at Uncle Theo and Ryan. Do you think liking someone of the same gender is wrong?”

“No,” I sniffle. “But to some people, it is. Even today.”

I feel both of them nod. It’s Daddy that speaks up. “As unfortunate as it is, there will probably always be people like that. But you can’t let other’s prejudices dictate your actions BC. You just have to deal with it as it comes along.”

I sniffle, and nod. “Yeah,” I agree. “You two are right!”

“Aren’t we always?” they chorus.

It draws a laugh from me, and I can feel all the tension leave my body. 

Dads smile at me. “It’s so good to hear that laugh, buddy,” they inform me.

“It’s good to be laughing again,” I tell them earnestly. “Thanks, Dads, I needed that. So much has been happening lately that I just don’t even know where to start in terms of dealing with it.”

“You know that you can always come to us, right buddy?” Dad asks.

“I know,” I nod. “And I appreciate that so much. You know, I’ve never really thanked you for everything that you two have done for me.”

“Braden Christopher Adams-Foster-Stevens, there is absolutely nothing to thank us for,” Dads say gently, yet firmly. “If anything, we should be thanking you for all that you’ve brought us since you got to us. We couldn’t imagine life without you.”

It’s this statement that shatters the dam blocking my tears, and they finally fall after threatening to for the entire length of our conversation.

“I’m sorry,” I say, hanging my head as sobs wrack my body. “I’m a complete mess.”

“It’s okay, buddy,” Dads soothe. “Just let it all out.”

I nod against their chests. “Just don’t let me go, okay?” I ask.

“Never,” they respond, holding me tighter.

For a while, the only sound in the room is the sound of my muffled sobs and the quiet reassurances that my Dads whisper to me.

When I’ve cried myself out in the comfort of their embrace, I pull away slightly, wiping my eyes.

“Did anything else happen between you and this Zane boy?” Dad asks me.

I inhale and exhale to keep my composure. “He said…” I trail off.

“What did he say to you, BC?” Daddy questions gently. “You can tell us.”

“He said... that he wanted to be in a relationship. When I brought up Marina, he said that she didn’t have to know. That it could be our secret.”

Their reaction to that is one that surprises me. They double over with laughter, leaving me stunned as they clutch at each other wildly in an attempt to calm themselves.

“You two have officially lost it,” I inform them, as the laughter stops and they try to regain breath.

“Sorry, buddy,” they chorus. “ We don’t mean to laugh. It just brought back a memory is all. We find the parallel funny, not the implication of the words themselves, okay?”

“Okay,” I nod. “What memory, if I may ask?”

“Your daddy said almost the exact same thing to me when I told him that Grandpa Adam didn’t need to know that the two of us were friends,” Dad informs me. “Grandpa, at that point, had banned us from seeing each other, because he had certain… suspicions about daddy. Your father here went off on me like a fire cracker.”

“So you were sassy, even back then?” I question Daddy.

“Yep,” he confirms. “And your father definitely, definitely knows that.”

I watch in mock-horror as my fathers kiss each other. “Dads please, save that for when the innocent eyes aren’t around and let’s get back to the real problem here.”

They pull apart with a pop. “Sorry,” they say sheepishly.

I huff in faux-annoyance. “I suppose I can forgive you,” I tell them.

The three of us laugh. 

“Now, you need to tell Marina, okay?” Daddy advises me. “If you don’t, it will be so much worse. Your father can attest to that, I’m sure.”

Dad blushes red in embarrassment. 

“Do I even want to know?” I question.

The two of them blush beet-red and hastily shake their heads. “No!” they say in synchronization. “Absolutely not!”

“Thought so,” I nod. “I’m going to bed now. Thanks for the talk, Dads.”

“Anytime, kid,” Dad says, and Daddy nods right along with him at that.

I begin to pad down the hallway to my bedroom, when I hear Daddy call out to me.

“We love you, bud,” he says. “No matter what.”

I reverse my course and poke my head back into the living room, with a smile on my face.

“I know,” I nod. “Goodnight, Dads.”

I make my way back down the hall and into my bedroom. I inhale and exhale as pick up my cell phone and scroll through my contacts, to find the one I want.

BC: I need you to drop by the house tomorrow. I have something to tell you.

With that, I toss my phone to the side and fall back onto the bed, curling my body, and falling into a restless, tortured sleep.   
*****  
Teenagers usually dread alarm clocks, but I’ve never really had a problem with them. In fact, I’ve always welcomed their noise. 

In the majority of the foster homes I was placed, I knew upon hearing the sound of the alarm that I had survived another night. That implication allows me to associate the sound with something positive, rather than something dreadful. Silly as it may be, that sound was one of the few positive things I had to hold onto as I was shuffled through the system without much regard for my personal well being.

Even now, two years out of the system, I close my eyes at night and look forward to hearing that familiar, comforting sound in the morning. 

Today though, for the first time ever, the sound does nothing to comfort me. Today, it reminds me of the moment I shared with the one person I’ve been trying my hardest to forget and how I have to tell one of the people I care about most in the entire world about said moment, potentially ending a two-year romantic relationship.

I could even lose a hell of a lot more. Knowing Marina as I do, she isn’t the type of person to cut someone out of her life without extraordinarily good reason, but this type of news can bring out something in people that it wouldn’t normally.

I’m scared. Very, very scared. But I know it has to be done. It isn’t fair to her if I keep her in the dark any longer than I already have.

I stretch and reach for my phone on the nightstand. I have exactly one new message:

Marina: Okay. Let me know when you want me there. I love you.

I sigh. Saying “I love you” is nothing new for us, but this was probably the worst possible time for her to do so. It immediately makes me feel so much guiltier for doing what I’m going to be doing.

I run my hand through my hair, a habit I’m prone to when nervous, and move to stand on disagreeing legs, before padding down the hallway to the kitchen.

“Need. Coffee. Now.” I say, as I slump into a chair at the table.

“Good morning to you too,” Dads say in unison.

“Sorry. I just… have a lot on my mind and didn’t sleep well.”

“It’s okay,” they respond as Daddy sets a steaming mug in front of my face. Just the scent gets me to perk up.

Thanks,” I say gratefully, as I grasp the cup and bring it to my lips, sipping it carefully.

“No problem, buddy,” Daddy replies. “You going to be okay?”

“I don’t know…” I tell him honestly. “That probably depends on your definition of the word ‘okay,’ to be honest.”

Daddy just nods, and goes to fetch plates. Dad comes and sits next to me. In no time at all, breakfast is served for the three of us, and Dad goes to wake up Hannah and Christian.

Hannah bounds into the room minutes later as I’m polishing off my eggs and wraps her arms around my waist in a hug. “Good morning, BC.”

I smile softly, hugging her back as best I can. “Good morning, Hannah.”

She looks up at me. “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine,” I assure her, even though I’m anything but. I don’t need to burden a 10-year-old with my issues.

She studies me intently, before glaring, but doesn’t question me, and takes my father’s hand as he leads her to make up her plate.

I go back to my now-ice cold coffee, taking a sip as I work on nibbling through my toast. 

“You look like hell,” a voice says from behind me. I turn, seeing Christian pad into the room, rubbing his eyes.

“Gee, thanks,” I mumble sarcastically, reaching out to ruffle his hair.

He dances out of my reach, and goes to where Dad and Hannah are standing by the stovetop, grabbing a plate on his way through.

It isn’t long before the five of us are seated, and eating in comfortable silence. Once I’ve stomached the last of what I can comfortably manage, I excuse myself, and attempt to hasten from the kitchen, but Hannah’s voice calls me back.

“I expect an explanation later, BC!” he announces.

I sigh, knowing she’ll keep on asking until I tell her. She’s a lot like Marina in that regard.

I spin around. “Later,” I agree. “Speaking of which, what time can Marina come over?”

“Whenever you’re ready,” Dads chorus. “She’s always welcome here.”

I finally exit the room, and pad back down the hallway, returning to my bedroom. I type out a quick text to Marina asking her to give me an hour to get ready, and go about my routine.

Once I’m dressed, I hear the doorbell ring. Checking my clock, I see it’s been precisely an hour.

Leave it to Marina to be punctual. She always has been. Even if that has meant literally dragging me behind her in an effort to get where she wants to go.

I laugh, remembering our latest trip to the mall. The memory is enough to distract me momentarily, so that when Marina jumps on me, throwing her arms around my neck, it startles me.

“Jesus Christ, Marina!” I exclaim. “You scared me.”

“Sorry,” she says apologetically. “What did you have to tell me?”

I huff out a laugh. “You don’t waste time, do you?”

“Nope!” she returns, popping the p, before regarding me seriously. “What is it, BC?”

I sigh. “Well… Zane kissed me.”

It’s silent for a minute as Marina processes. “I’m sensing a ‘but’ at the end of that sentence.”

“I liked it,” I admit sheepishly, bracing myself for a slap to the face. What happened next though was admittedly the last thing I expected.

“Is that all?” Marina asks me.

I peek open one eye. “You’re not mad?” I ask quizzically.

“Oh, I’m mad, alright,” she says with a nod, and my stomach churns violently. 

“You have every right to be,” I assure her.

She looks at me as if I’ve grown a second head. “I’m not mad at you. Zane is another story…” her eyes darken considerably. “But don’t worry, I won’t do anything too bad to your boyfriend.”

“Boyfriend?” I squeak. “He’s not—”

“Not yet he isn’t,” she cuts me off. “But he could be. And that’s okay.”

“It is?” I question.

She laughs. “For the last time, BC Adams-Foster-Stevens, yes, it’s okay. Being bisexual is nothing to be ashamed of.”

“I honestly expected to get slapped,” I admit, voicing my fear.

She levels me with an incredulous glare. “You’ve known me for two years, and that’s what you expected?”

“Well, yeah…” I confirm. “This ‘coming out’ thing doesn’t always go well, you know.”

She wraps her arms around me. “I know… and I’m breaking up with you. You need to figure yourself out, and you can’t do that when you’re in a relationship.”

“I’m sorry,” I say.

“Don’t be,” she says resolutely. “I love you, and part of loving someone is loving them enough to let them go, so they can be happy. I want you to be happy, BC.”

“We’re still best friends, right?” I ask.

“Always,” she confirms. “Never doubt that.”

“Has anyone told you how remarkable you are, Marina Reyes?” I ask.

She ponders, before grinning. “People could stand to mention it more.”

“You’re a remarkable person, Marina Reyes,” I say immediately.

She hugs me tightly. “You’re pretty remarkable too, BC Adams-Foster-Stevens. Now, if you excuse me, I think Zane and I have a few things to discuss. I’ll call you later.”

She bounds out of my room, saying a quick goodbye to my Dads. I sigh and sprawl out on my bed, eyes closed.

“Well, it appears that went well,” two incredibly familiar voices say.

My eyes fly open, spying my father’s in the doorway. “Yeah, it did,” I agree.

“We’re very proud of you,” Dad tells me. “You know that, right?”

I nod. “Thanks, Dads.”

“And we want to meet this Zane boy someday,” Daddy says.

“We’re actually working on a project together,” I comment, and it’s impossible to miss the glint of mischief in both of my Dads eyes.

“Whatever you’re thinking, absolutely not!” I exclaim.

“We have no idea what you’re talking about,” they say at the same time.

“Sure you don’t,” I deadpan. “Just please, if you love me at all, nothing too embarrassing, okay?”

“No promises!” Dad smirks.

Just then Hannah comes bolting into my room. “I want my explanation now!” she proclaims, fixing me with an expectant look.

I groan, and Dads laugh as they make their way back down the hallway, leaving me to explain to my 10-year-old foster sister why I was acting sad at breakfast, and why, as she puts it, “the pretty girl left our house so soon.”

I sigh. This has the potential to be the most awkwardly cute conversation I’ve ever had...


	32. Chapter 31

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The first of 3 chapters that celebrate Jude and Connor's anniversary!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters; I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Hannah and Christian Davis, as well as any other characters I wish to create and insert into this story in the future

I wake up cold, my hands instantly seeking Connor’s warmth, only to find a tangle of empty sheets. That is so not the way I want to start any day, much less today.

Today is Connor and I’s third wedding anniversary. I can’t believe it has been three years since we said our vows, and thirteen since we first met. 

‘My husband’ I think to myself, a sigh escaping my lips. There are so many words I could use to describe him. He’s my lover, my best friend, my protector, my anchor, and the light that guides me through the dark. 

He’s my everything.

I sit up in bed, rubbing the fatigue from my eyes. Almost instantly, I inhale the acrid smell of smoke, which is followed by a string of profanity.

I chuckle lightly, swinging my legs over the side of the bed. ‘Some things never change’ I think to myself. My husband’s complete ineptitude in the kitchen is one such thing.

I stand on stiff legs, sliding my feet into a comfy pair of slippers, and shuffle down the hallway to the kitchen.

Peeking inside, I see my flustered husband fretting over a pan on the stovetop. Smoke billows, and I hear him sputter out a cough.

I make my way over to the stovetop, and pry the pan from his hold, depositing it into the sink and turning on the water. I cough as the smoke disperses before clearing.

I look over to my husband, who graces me with a sheepish smile.

I huff, and move to wrap my arms around his neck. “What am I going to do with you?” I sigh.

“Kiss me?” he suggests, wriggling his eyebrows suggestively. 

I laugh, and peck him lightly. “There. Happy now?”

He pulls me back in, wrapping his strong arms around my waist, and proceeding to peck me a few times in quick succession. “Happy anniversary, Judicorn,” he says.

I shrug off his usage of the offensive nickname. Connor can get away with just about anything on our anniversary, and he knows it.

Unfortunately, he has forgotten that two can play at that game. I grin evilly, and pull him down for a passionate kiss, my fingers raking through his hair, and pulling the blond strands.

I feel Connor attempt to bite back a moan, and I know I have him exactly where I want him. I pull away, and the whine he emits is music to my ears.

I saunter away teasingly. “I’m going to take a nice hot shower,” I toss over my shoulder towards my flustered husband.

“Judicorn!” he whines, pouting. “You can’t just leave me like this!”

“No one said you couldn’t join me in the shower, Con,” I inform him with a wink.

He groans. “Stop teasing me!”

“You coming or not?” I ask, as I start towards the bathroom again.

I’ve barely taken another step forward when I hear the creak of the hardwood signaling that Connor is following me. 

“Damn tease,” he mutters from behind me. “He’s so lucky I love him.”

I turn back, and take his lips in a sweet kiss. “I love you too, my husband,” I breathe against his lips. “Happy anniversary.”  
*****  
After our joint shower, I lead Connor by the hand to the kitchen and sit him down at the table, while I prepare breakfast for the two of us.

“I was supposed to do that!” he pouts. “I had the whole day planned, you know?”

“Did you now?” I ask, coming up behind him and setting his plate in front of him, before pressing a kiss into his cheek and wrapping my arms around him.

“Yes, I’ll have you know that I did!” he exclaims. 

I nuzzle his neck. “And what did you have planned, my husband?” I question.

“Well…” he starts, before clamming up, and narrowing his eyes at me. “Oh, no, Judicorn!” he exclaims. “Not this time.”

“What?” I ask, disentangling myself from Connor and morphing my features into an overly innocent mask, complete with puppy dog eyes and my most devastating pout. 

He huffs at seeing my display, which almost always succeeds in getting him to bend to my will. 

“You will not get me to blab on my master plan for our anniversary by using your persuasive guilt tactics."

"But they always work!” I huff.

“Not this time, they don’t,” Connor says resolutely, shaking his head.

I huff, and wrap my arms around his frame once more, nipping at his neck.

Connor moans at the contact, and I can feel his resolve crumbling, but it suddenly steels. 

“You won’t be able to seduce it out of me, either,” he deadpans. 

“Damn it!”

Connor laughs, motioning to the chair across the table. “Just sit and eat, please, babe? Let me surprise you just this once.”

“But…”

“Not ‘buts,’ my beautiful husband, now sit down and lets enjoy this lovely breakfast and then we’ll wake the kids, and get them settled before I whisk you away to our first destination of the day.”

“Did you call anyone to watch the kids?” I question. Connor’s plan sounds great in theory, but he sometimes misses the little details.

“I thought BC could handle it,” he tells me. “He is getting to that age where he’s going to want more freedom and responsibility.”

“I know,” I nod. “It’s a good idea, Con. A really good idea, actually.”

“Hey!” he exclaims, recoiling in mock hurt. “I am known to have them from time to time.”

This of course leads us to a discussion of all the “good” ideas he’s had in the past. By the end of breakfast, we are a hysterically laughing mess.

“Do I even want to know?” a voice asks, with an audible sigh.

We snap out of our nostalgia-induced laughter and turn towards our son. He looks half-amused and half-annoyed.

“I’ll take your silence as a ‘no,’ then,” BC exclaims. “God, every time I think you two can’t get any more sickeningly in love, I’m proven wrong.”

“Thanks, kiddo,” we say in unison.

He sighs. “I give up. What’s for breakfast?”

“I made a little bit of everything,” I inform him, gesturing to the plethora of platters, plates and pans piled high with food. “Help yourself, bud.”

BC nods, murmuring a sleepy “Thanks,” before shuffling to the counter and beginning to make up his plate.

He sits down at the table, and the three of us eat in peaceful silence. When BC gets up to bring his plate to the sink, Connor stops him.

“Hey buddy?” he calls. “Can we talk to you?”

“Sure!” he responds, still moving towards the sink, where he deposits his plate and glass before rounding back and gracing us with his undivided attention. “Happy anniversary, by the way.”

“Thank you, buddy,” we chorus.

“So, what did you want to talk about?” he questions.

“Well,” Connor intones. “I have plans for your Daddy and I’s anniversary, but we need someone to watch Hannah and Christian…”

“Ok…” BC trails off, unsure of where we’re headed with this conversation.

“We’d like to give that responsibility to you,” I announce. “Do you think you can handle it?”

His face lights up, the brightness of his smile rivaling that of the sun. “Of course!” he nods, bounding forward to hug us. “You won’t regret this, I promise.”

“We know we won’t,” we tell him together. “We trust you. We know you’ll take good care of them. Besides, you’re getting to the age where we need to give you a bit more responsibility.”

BC just nods, looking shocked.

“That said, we’ll leave you everyone’s numbers, so don’t be afraid to call if you need help,” we continue.

“Ok, Dads,” he agrees.

“And if it’s an absolute emergency, you can call us at any time, okay?” Connor informs. “I’ll let you know our itinerary for the evening.” 

I huff. “So you’ll tell our 14-year-old son your master plan for tonight, but I get nothing?”

Connor smirks. “Yep,” he tells me, popping the p. “Your devastating pout and masculine charm will have no effect on me today.”

This causes me to use my most innocent puppy dog eyes and put on my most devastating pout, which causes my husband and son to burst out into laughter.

Connor moves to take me in his arms, still laughing. “Oh, my God. I love you, Jude Adams-Foster-Stevens. That was absolutely priceless… but it still didn’t work.” He motions to BC. “Come on, son, let’s leave your father to stew about what exactly I have planned for him tonight.”

BC cackles, grinning evilly as Connor and he depart from the kitchen, leaving me standing there shocked.

Eventually, I sigh, resigned to the fact that Connor had a grand plan and that, for at least tonight, I’d just have to strap myself in, and go along for the ride.

As I watch the twin heads of blond hair shrink further into the distance, a fond smile comes across my features.

‘God, how I love those two,’ I think to myself, before busying myself with cleaning the mountain of dishes piled in the sink.  
*****  
That night sees me dressed in a frankly uncomfortable tuxedo, with Connor’s only hint being that the two of us have to “look the part” for the evening. Personally though, I think that directive and this choice of clothing was solely so that he could have an excuse to see me in this tight tux.

It’s only the second time in my life that I’ve ever worn one, the first being on my wedding day, and Connor has never failed to remind me just how much that sight made him salivate. 

“Jude, babe?” I hear my husband call. “You almost ready? We’re going to be late.”

“Yes, Con!” I call back, growling in frustration as I attempt to get my necktie on properly. In the mirror, I see Connor pop his head through the doorway of our bedroom, his hair slicked back stylishly.

“Wow!” he whistles, as soon as his hazel eyes find mine. He moves to help me tie my midnight blue tie. “You look striking, love.”

“Thank you, babe,” I say, twisting to kiss him. “You look pretty striking yourself.”

“Stop distracting me!” he says, breaking off the kiss. “I’m trying to get this tie right.”

The look of pure concentration that comes across his features is so adorable that it takes all I have not to kiss it off.

“There!” he announces, as he loops the tie through and moves to take my hand in his. “All done, now let’s get going. The first surprise of the night should be arriving any minute now…”

Just then, I hear a knock on the door, noting that Connor looks absolutely giddy.

“What are you up to?” I question suspiciously.

“I’ll show you, babe. Come on,” he says, pulling me by our joined hands through the house, down the stairs and to the front door, where I see a uniformed man standing on the porch, with a stretch limousine in the backdrop.

“You got us a limo?” I question excitedly. 

“Of course, my prince,” Connor says, smiling a sweet, bashful smile.

“God, I love you,” I say earnestly, cupping his cheek and kissing him tenderly, before enveloping him in a tight embrace.

“I love you too,” I feel him whisper against my neck, as he kisses me right on the junction between my neck and my shoulder blade.

“Alright, break up the love-fest you two,” BC interjects as he steps between us. “You’re going to blind your poor limo driver.”

Connor and I pull apart sheepishly, and send apologetic glances to BC and our limo driver, who waves it off good-naturedly.

“You remind me of my wife and I when we were your age,” he says, getting a twinkle in his eyes. “Shall we be going?”

“Yes,” Connor and I say together.

With a quick set of reminders to BC, and goodbyes to Hannah and Christian, the two of us follow our limo driver out to the curb, where he opens the door for us to slide in, before he goes around and gets in the driver’s seat.

“My name is Gustav, and I will be your personal chauffer for the evening. There is champagne in the mini-fridge, and some glasses in the cabinet. Let me know if you’ll require anything else.”

I’m about to thank the man, when Connor beats me to it. “Thank you, Gustav, we will. Roll up the partition, please.”

I see Gustav push a button, and suddenly, my view is cut off as a darkly tinted glass rises up and obstructs the front of the vehicle from where the two of us sit in the back.

“What was that for?” I ask, curiously.

“You are not getting any glimpse of my big plans for tonight,” he says firmly. “Did you think I didn’t know that you would think to look out the windshield?”

“Damn it!” I curse. “Damn it, damn it, damn it!”

“Aw, don’t pout babe,” Connor pleads. “It’ll all be worth it by the end of the night.”

“You better have the most amazing anniversary plan in the history of anniversaries, Connor Adams-Foster Stevens,” I say warningly.

“Trust me, my dear husband, what I have planned will blow your mind,” he assures me, taking my hand in his and twining our fingers together. “In more ways than one,” he says, following that with a positively indecent wink that is all kinds of suggestive.

“Damn it, Connor!” I groan. “Do you have any idea what you’re doing to me?”

He laughs, before his features settle into a knowing smirk. “Oh, trust me babe,” he says, nipping at my neck. “I think I have a pretty good idea.”

This teasing between us continues until the car stops, and Connor announces that we’ve arrived at our first destination.

“Finally!” I shout, jubilant, causing Connor to bust into laughter.

“Don’t be premature, my dear Judicorn,” he warns. “Close your eyes.”

“Connor!” I whine, not at all caring that I’m a 26-year-old married father sounding like a petulant child.

“Un uh, Jude,” Connor chides, wagging his finger. “No whining, or else you won’t get your rewards, and after all this teasing, I’m pretty sure you’ll want them. If not, I can just direct Gustav to drive us right back home.”

I shake my head vehemently.

“I thought as much,” Connor smirks. “Now, close your eyes.”

I do as told, and feel a pair of hands cover my eyes. 

“Insurance against you peeking,” I hear Connor say in my ears, and I can’t do anything but nod, wondering what the hell this crazy, spontaneous, wonderful, handsome man has in store for me.

Of one thing I’m absolutely certain though:

Tonight will be a night I’ll remember for a long, long time.


	33. Chapter 32

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The anniversary celebration continues...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Christian and Hannah Davis, as well as any further OC’s I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

“A movie theatre?” Jude asks quizzically, once I pull my hands away from his face. “My big surprise is a movie? Seriously?”

I nuzzle his pulse point, placing a light kiss there. “No, silly,” I assure him. “This is just our first stop of the evening. Your big surprise comes next.”

“Well, okay,” Jude says, taking my hand. “What are we seeing?”

“Wait and see,” I tell him.

The two of us walk into the cinema, and I sit Jude down at a table, while I head up to the box office to grab our tickets.

Once that’s done, I make my way back to Jude and the two of us make our way to the concession stand. I’m sure we must look like fishes out of water in our respective tuxes, but I don’t care. They’re necessary for the big surprise I have planned.

We place our order, and wait for it to be filled before I lead him to the theatre. 

We take our seats, right in the back, sitting in the middle of the row. Much like how we were 13 years ago, on a double date. Which is exactly as I planned it. 

As the theatre darkens, Jude looks around, before leaning over to speak.

“We’re the only two here,” he says quietly. 

“I know,” I tell him.

With my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I can see his features draw in, eyes narrowing. “You planned it like that, didn’t you?”

I can only smile and nod, before focusing on the screen. If Jude thinks that paying to rent out an entire theatre for a private screening is all I have planned, he’s sorely mistaken, as he’s about to find out… now!

Instead of the usual trailers and commercials that play before a film starts, a carefully put together montage of photos and video messages begins to play. The photos encompass our entire 13-year relationship, interspersed with video messages from all of our family.

After the final video message, the camera turns and I see my face pop up on the screen, smiling.

“Surprise, babe,” I say, being as animated as I can while holding a handheld camera. “I bet you were expecting trailers and commercials. Hope you’re not too disappointed with what you got instead. And this is only the beginning of what I have planned for the night. I love you so much, Jude.”

A curtain like animation closes around my face, and in beautiful cursive lettering are the words: Happy Anniversary, Jude! All my love always- Connor

He looks at me, tears streaking down his face. “God, I love you,” he says, wrapping his arms tightly around me and nuzzling into my neck. “I love you so much.”

My arms instinctively go around his waist, pulling him as close to me as possible with an armrest in the way. “I love you, too,” I whisper softly, pressing a kiss to his temple.

After a few minutes, I reluctantly pull away from him, laughing as Jude’s outstretched arms move to follow me, seeking the solidity of my body. 

“Let’s watch the movie babe,” I say, as the opening credits start to roll. 

Jude huffs, crosses his arms and levels the screen with a glare. He looks absolutely adorable. 

I find myself ignoring my own advice and instead of watching the movie, I watch him. I’m waiting for the moment he realizes…

“Is this the same film we saw with Taylor and Daria all those years ago?” he questions.

“Yep,” I nod.

Jude rolls his eyes fondly, turning as much as he can in his seat and cupping my cheek with his hand.

“You’re such a dork,” he says, good-naturedly.

I laugh. “You love it,” I retort teasingly.

Yeah,” he smiles. “I do.”

He pulls me forward for a chaste peck. It still amazes me how thirteen years later; every kiss between us feels like the first. Jude makes my heart race like no one else ever has, or ever will.

I swipe my tongue across his lips, deepening the kiss. Needless to say, the now 13-year-old movie becomes an afterthought. We spend the rest of the run time kissing and playfully feeding each other popcorn.

We get more on the floor of the theatre than we do in our mouths, and I can’t bring myself to feel sorry about the fact that someone is going to have to clean everything up afterwards. I paid handsomely to rent out this theatre, so I’m sure the cleaning crew can handle any mess.

As we walk out, I tap my pinkie against Jude’s, and he laughs and gives me a brilliant smile as he links his finger through mine.

“Are you ready for your big surprise?” I ask him.

“More than ready!” he exclaims enthusiastically.

I can’t help but smile at his enthusiasm, as the two of us slide back into the limo. Almost immediately, he burrows into my body, and I instinctively wrap my arm around his shoulders. He sighs contentedly and I kiss his forehead as Gustav drives us through the San Diego night towards our next destination.  
*****  
I take Jude to the beach next. I cover his eyes as I lead him across the cold, soft sand, so that he can’t peek at my ingenious work.

“Can I see now?” he asks, sounding somewhat impatient.

“Just a bit further, Judicorn,” I promise. 

When I finally remove my hands and Jude takes in the set-up I’ve created, I see his eyes widen. I have a nice formal table with candles and delicious food. Spread around the immediate area are a plethora of rose petals, the red providing a striking contrast with the sand. 

Behind the table is a tent; very similar to the one we shared on our school camping trip all those years ago.

Jude looks at me, eyes shimmering with unshed tears. “It’s beautiful, Con,” he says, dabbing at his eyes. I move forward, taking his face in my hands and wiping at the glistening clear streaks with the pads of my thumbs.

“I’m glad you like it,” I say, pulling him into a strong embrace. “Do you want to eat first, or would you like to dance?”

“Eat,” he says, pulling back from the hug and composing himself. “It’d be a shame for all this delicious-looking food to get cold.”

“Okay,” I nod. “Eat it is.”

I take his hand in mind, and we walk forward a few steps to the table. I pull his chair out and he sits down.

I then walk over to my side of the table and sit down, busying myself with popping open the bottle of champagne. I pour the golden liquid into two flutes, and hand one to my husband.

“Thank you, love,” he says. “Shall we do a toast?”

I nod. “Here’s to three years of matrimony and thirteen years of adventures. God willing, there will be many more, and I wouldn’t want anyone else at my side.”

“I’ll drink to that!” Jude nods, raising his glass up to meet mine, before bringing it to his lips.

I reach over and tangle our free hands together, and the two of us enjoy our meal. The candlelight dances on our faces, and the waves crash soothingly into the shore, as we feed each other and enjoy each other’s company.

When we’re each finished our meal, Jude wipes his mouth with a napkin. “That was delicious, Con,” he says to me. “If you tell me you had a hand in cooking that, I’ll be shocked.”

“No, I didn’t,” I admit. “You know how bad I am with cooking. I had your Moms, Callie and BC whip this up for us. Brandon and Jesus set up the table and the tent. Mariana is responsible for all the rose petals.”

“I’ll have to thank them when we next see them, then,” he says, humming appreciatively, before turning back to me. He leans across the table, lips puckered, and I meet him halfway, sealing our lips together.

“Thank you for this,” he whispers into the kiss.

“No thanks necessary, Judicorn,” I tell him earnestly. “I did this because I love you, and next year, I’m sure you’ll do something great for our anniversary.”

“Thinking ahead, are we?” he teases.

“Well, I waited 10 years to propose to you, and you waited around 10 years for me to ask you. Given that, I think the odds of us lasting another year seem pretty solid.”

“Fair enough,” he admits grudgingly.

I laugh, rising from my seat and offering him my hand. “You want to dance?”

“I’d love to,” he nods.

And so, I take his hand and we move across the white sand. I pull him close, and he rests his head on my shoulder, nose buried into the crook of my neck. We sway softly, until he pulls back slightly.

“We don’t have any music,” he realizes.

“So?” I question. “We don’t need any.”

“But—” Jude tries, but I take his face in my hands and bring my lips to his, silencing him.

“Babe,” I say softly upon pulling back. “It’s okay. Just enjoy the moment.”

He finally nods, returning his head to my shoulder as we move together as one. I spin him, and he laughs as I pull him back and dip him, silencing his laughter with another kiss, this one much more passionate.

We pull apart panting. “If you kiss me like that again, I can’t guarantee that the tent you set up won’t be used for an activity you didn’t intend,” Jude wheezes out. 

I smirk at him. “Is that so?” I question.

Jude nods, looking flushed.

“Would you like to see what I intend it to be used for, then?” 

After receiving another nod from my husband, I take him by the hand and lead him to the tent. Unzipping it, the two of us are bathed in a soft orange glow from the lantern that is set up. There are two sleeping bags and laying neatly on each one is a comic book.

When I look back at my husband. I see him with his hand over his mouth, trying to take it all in.

“Oh, babe. C’mere,” I say, holding my arms out, and in seconds, I have an armful of him. I press a kiss to his temple.

He eventually pulls back. “This takes me back,” he says fondly, picking up the comic book. “Are these the same ones we read that night?”

“But of course!” I confirm.

“You don’t do anything halfway, do you?” he questions.

“Do you know me?” I question incredulously, and Jude laughs.

“Better than most,” he says, and pulls me in for a quick peck. “You’re amazing, Connor Adams-Foster-Stevens.” 

“I know,” I say, somewhat smugly.

Jude laughs again and reaches out to flick my forehead. “You’re such a dork.”

“But I’m your dork,” I retort.

“Yes,” he nods. “Yes you are.”

We fall into a comfortable silence after that, each of us flipping through our respective comic books. Soundlessly, I put mine down and begin to work my way over to him.

He looks up, spotting me. “What are you doing now, Con?” he asks.

“Well,” I huff. “I was trying to recreate our very first kiss, but you seem to have other ideas.”

Jude smiles. “Come here, babe,” he says, motioning for me to join him. 

I don’t hesitate, crawling over to his side. He turns his head, and gives me a few pecks in quick succession. I deepen the kiss when given the opportunity, and I can feel Jude huff a laugh against my lips.

“You are insatiable!” he murmurs, never breaking our kiss.

“You know you love it,” I murmur back.

He pulls back, and moves his hand to my cheek, cupping it gently. “Yes, I do,” he admits, smiling. “I love everything about you, babe.”

“Likewise,” I nod, leaning forward to capture his lips in another kiss, this one much more chaste than the last.

When we break this time, I pull myself up before offering my hand to my husband. “I have one last place to take you,” I inform him.

Jude rolls his eyes, before reaching out and taking my hand. I pull him up and the two of us exit the tent.

“Don’t worry about the tent and the table. Jesus and Brandon will take care of it.”

“Okay,” he nods. “Now where are you taking me?”

“To a little spot on this beach that we both know quite well,” I tell him. “Close your eyes.”

He does as directed, and I place my hands over them. “Do you trust me?” I ask.

“With my life,” he responds instantly.

“Then I’ll be your guide, okay?”

“Okay.”

It takes about 10 minutes to get to our destination. I uncover Jude’s eyes, but tell him to keep them closed, as I take his hand, guiding him to step into position before placing my hands back over his eyes briefly.

“Are you ready?” I ask him.

He nods.

“Okay,” I say. “Open your eyes.”

I pull my hands away and Jude looks around. “Is this what I think it is?” I ask.

“Yep,” I nod. “It’s the same place I found you on the night of the Anchor Beach party.”

“Okay, why are we here?” he questions.

“A few reasons,” I announce. “First, it’s a significant place in our relationship, and second, look up.”

He does, turning his gaze to the sky. I come up behind him, and wrap my arms around his middle securely, resting my head on his shoulder.

“Do you see that heart-shaped section of stars?” I ask. 

“Yes,” he replies.

“It’s two halves of one full heart, right?” I say.

“Right,” he nods.

“Kind of like us,” I venture. “We’re two half’s of the same heart.”

“Yes, we are,” he acknowledges. “What are you driving at, Con?”

“Well,” I say, pulling out some documentation. “As of tonight, you own one half of that heart, and I own the other half.”

I feel his body shake with silent sobs. “I love it,” he says quietly.

“I’m glad.”

He turns in my arms and burrows his face in my neck. I just hold him. 

“I love you so much, Jude,” I tell him, repeating it like a mantra.

“And I love you so much, Connor,” he replies.

“Now, what do you say we call Gustav and get home to our kids?” I ask.

He takes my hand. “I think that is an excellent idea, husband.”

We spend the entire limo ride back to the house wrapped in each other’s arms. As we exit the vehicle, I make sure to tip Gustav very well.

We walk up to the front door hand in hand and Jude opens it. He’s barely had time to put his keys back before I sweep him up bridal style and carry him over the threshold.

He laughs, winding his arms tightly around my neck. 

We make our way through the house, stopping at each of our kid’s rooms to make sure they’re asleep. Finding none of them where they are supposed to be, we venture into the living room, where the television is still playing.

There on the couch lie our kids. Hannah is cuddled up on BC’s chest on one side, and Christian is sleeping in a sitting position on the other side. 

I put Jude down and the two of us cover them with blankets and turn off the TV before heading into our bedroom for the night.

We get out of our tuxes, take a shower and then get into our nightclothes, with me forgoing a shirt.

As Jude burrows into my side, his arm resting on my abs, he looks up at me.

“Thank you for tonight, Con,” he says.

“No thanks necessary, babe,” I inform him. “It was my pleasure.”

“I’m sure it was,” he smirks. “Goodnight, my husband.”

“Goodnight, Jude. I love you.”

“I love you, Con. Always.”


	34. Chapter 33

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> While the parents are away...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters; I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Hannah and Christian Davis, as well as any other characters I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

As soon as I close the door, I huff out a sigh at my ridiculously in love parents and move to locate Hannah and Christian.

I find both of them in Christian’s room. I smile softly at the sight of the two hunched over a puzzle, Christian helping Hannah place a piece. I rap lightly on the door, causing both of them to look up.

“BC!” Hannah exclaims happily, her eyes lighting up as she moves to wrap her arms around me in a hug.

Instinctively, I return it. “Hi, sweetheart,” I say fondly. 

While Hannah has me immobilized, I look to Christian, who is smiling softly. He gives me an almost imperceptible nod, which I return.

I pry Hannah off me gently. “What are you two doing?” I ask.

“We’re doing a puzzle,” she huffs, as if that should be obvious. “Would you like to help?”

I look to Christian, who gives me a nod. 

“I’d love to!” I reply, smiling down at Hannah, who proceeds to drag me towards the pieces splayed all over the floor.

I kneel and the three of us work together to complete the image. Once its finished, a serene looking forest visual stares me in the face.

“It’s so pretty!” Hannah exclaims.

“Yes it is,” I agree with a nod, before clearing my throat and addressing both of my siblings. “Listen, Dads are out celebrating their anniversary tonight, so it’s just the three of us, okay?”

“Yay!” Hannah shrieks, bowling me over. “Oh, this is going to be so much fun! We’ll watch movies and play games and dress up—”

I laugh at Hannah’s enthusiasm. She’s such a bundle of energy. Her and Christian have really been a light in the dark for me with everything that has happened with my family and with me personally.

“Can the pretty girl come?” Hannah asks suddenly. 

It takes me a second to place that particular nickname as belonging to Marina, Hannah having coined it during our awkwardly cute conversation on the day I confessed to Marina about my feelings for Zane.

“Sure!” I smile. “Let me just text Dads and then I’ll text her and ask, okay?”

“Okay!” she nods happily.

After a few texts, a knock on the door announces my best friend’s arrival. Hannah is up and at the door almost before Christian and I can move a muscle.

When we finally drag ourselves into the entranceway, we see Marina completely immobilized by Hannah’s embrace.

She looks up at me with pleading eyes, as if begging for me to say something, anything, to get Hannah off of her. I’m about to, when a surprising voice beats me to it.

“Hannah Amanda Davis!” Christian yells. “Let her go. Now.”

Hannah is having none of that. “You’re not the boss of me!” she snaps back. “You can’t tell me what to do!”

“No,” Christian agrees. “I can’t, but BC can. He’s in charge tonight, right?”

Hannah nods sheepishly, and looks to me for the final verdict.

“Hannah,” I say gently. “Please let Marina go, okay? I know you’re excited to see her, but in order for her to play with you, she has to be able to move. She can’t do that with you hugging her, right?”

Hannah thinks on this for a minute before nodding and dropping her arms from around Marina’s waist. 

Marina moves forward, giving me a grateful look, a tight hug and a friendly kiss on the cheek.

“How are you?” she asks.

“Fine,” I smile. “I’m watching these two for the night, and you’re here. I don’t think I can be any better right now.”

She frowns. “That’s not what I mean,” she sighs.

In reality, I knew exactly what she meant. You can’t be best friends who’ve dated and not be able to read the other person.

“Not now,” I shake my head. “Please.”

“You can’t run from it forever, BC,” she says warningly. 

“I’m not running from it!” I snap, before realizing it came out harsher than I had intended. “ Sorry,” I breathe. “I’m dealing with it, but I just want a reprieve tonight with three of my favorite people, okay?”

She sighs again, looking down, before fixing her gaze back on me. “All right,” she smiles.

“Thank you!” I rasp, relieved, letting out a breath I hadn’t been aware I’d been holding.

She nods, and turns to Hannah. “So, what do you say we leave the boys to their own devices and hang out? BC’s told me you’ve wanted me to style you?”

Hannah nods excitedly, and Marina laughs. 

“Well, okay, then!” she says. “We’ll do a full spa then. That sound good?”

“YES!” Hannah all but screams. 

“Well, all right then!” Marina exclaims, extending her hand to Hannah, who takes it. “Bye boys,” she calls over her shoulder.

Hannah looks back as they reach the stairs and sticks out her tongue at us. Christian laughs and shakes his head, and I join in, before clamping a hand on his shoulder.

“Well, it looks like it’s just the two of us tonight,” I say to him as he looks up at me quizzically. “Unless you want a makeover too,” I tease.

Christian visibly shudders, and I laugh.

“I’ll take that as a no, then?” I ask.

Christian nods emphatically, eyes going wide, causing me to laugh again.

“Well then,” I question. “What would you like to do instead?”

“Anything,” he breathes desperately. “Just save me from those two in case they decide to use me as a test subject...” 

“No worries,” I laugh. “I’ll make sure they don’t do that.”

“Good,” he smiles.

I return it. “What do you say we go watch some TV?” I ask him.

He shrugs. “Sounds good to me,” he says amiably. “Not like there’s too much to do otherwise.”

“We could always game?” I throw out. “Might be more exciting than just sitting there.”

“I’ve never…” Christian trails off.

“You’ve never gamed?” I guess.

Christian nods sheepishly. “With both my parents drug-addicted, we barely had the money to get food on the table, much less the money for anything else.”

I nod in understanding. “I get it, bud,” I intone sympathetically. “I’m more than happy to teach you.”

“Race you to the couch?” Christian challenges, only seconds before he takes off.

“Cheater!” I laugh, as I take after him.  
*****  
Christian turns out to be surprisingly adept at gaming, even managing to beat me a few times in various games. Right now, I’m waiting for him to select another game to play from the plethora I own.

I lounge back, and close my eyes, sighing in relaxation as I sink into couch. I’m just getting comfortable when Christian’s voice shakes me back to reality.

“What about this one?” he question. “It looks cool.”

I pop one eye open to see him holding a game case that I instantly recognize. I nearly choke as I sit up too fast.

“Absolutely not!” I say gently, yet firmly.

Christian has my copy of the latest Grand Theft Auto game clutched in his hand.

“Why not?” Christian whines. “A few friends of mine from my old school used to play it, and given my upbringing, I don’t think it’ll be anything I haven’t seen before.”

I shudder involuntarily at the image of 10-year-olds playing Grand Theft Auto and sigh, looking into his emerald green eyes.

“That may be true,” I concede. “But I’m your big brother, and it’s my job to protect you from the bad things in the world as best I can.”

“I know,” he says quietly, and before I can process, I end up with an armful, as arms snake around my middle.

It takes me a second to realize what’s happening, but when it hits me, I don’t hesitate to return the hug.

“What was that for, bud?” I ask once he’s released me.

“Oh, I’m sorry—” he starts.

I cut him off quickly. “Don’t you dare apologize,” I tell him. “You have nothing to apologize for. I was just surprised.”

“That makes two of us, then,” Christian says. “I’m not normally an affectionate person.”

“You can say that again,” I tease.

“Hey!” he squawks indignantly. “If you’re going to be my brother, you’re not supposed to tease me!”

“On the contrary, Christian,” I inform him. “As your big brother, I’m one of the few people who does have a right to tease you. Trust me, you should’ve seen the ribbing I got from my Dads when I got to them. They still rib me to this day even. In fact, I think its gotten worse.”

Christian throws his head back in laughter. “I can believe it,” he agrees. “Seeing you turn unholy shades of red is very funny.”

I glare at him. “Just you wait. Sooner or later, they’ll start teasing you, and I can guarantee you, you won’t find it at all funny.”

He blanches, and I grin widely.

“Exactly,” I smirk. “Up for another round of gaming?”

“That depends,” he retorts. “Are you ready to lose?”

“Cocky, are we?” I ask.

“You bet,” he smirks at me.

“Oh, game on!”   
*****  
After our gaming is once interrupted by Marina and Hannah, who put on an impromptu modeling display for the two of us, the two of us decide to call it quits for the night, although Christian did extract a promise from me that we’ll game again soon.

“Will you be staying for dinner, Marina?” I ask casually as I settle my siblings into their seats at the dining table, before going to pull a plethora of take-out menus out from where they’re stored.

“If you’ll have me,” Marina agrees. “I’d just have to text my parents.”

“Of course we’ll have you!” I say. “That’s not even a question. You’re family.”

Marina smiles radiantly. “Then, I’d be crazy not to stay! Besides, I’ll get to spend more time with my BFF Hannah! Isn’t that right?”

“Right!” Hannah agrees instantly, beaming at Marina’s words. 

I can already imagine the havoc the two of them will get into when Hannah gets older. 

Marina fixes me with a knowing smirk. 

“You are evil, Marina Reyes,” I groan.

“But she didn’t say anything!” Hannah points out.

I sigh, and Marina chuckles. I turn to Hannah. “Never mind, sweetheart. Now, what does everyone want for dinner?”

“I’m good with anything,” Marina says.

“As am I,” I agree with a nod. “I guess it’s just down to what the twins want. You two don’t have any allergies I need to know about, do you?”

They shake their heads vehemently.

“Okay then,” I say. “Now, we can either order in or Marina and I could cook something up.”

Christian and Hannah talk this out quietly, before facing me. Christian speaks for them.

“While we feel that Chinese and the other options are more than adequate, it’s been years since we’ve had a properly cooked homemade meal, if you two don’t mind/”

“I understand,” I nod. “You ready to roll up your sleeves, Marina?”

She smiles, hiking her sleeves up past her elbows. “Always. Let’s get cooking.”  
*****  
Marina and I sent Hannah and Christian to play together, while we cooked. As soon as they were out of sight, I could feel Marina’s expectant gaze on my back as I begin the process of breading chicken.

I look over my shoulder, and she grins, porcelain teeth fully exposed and eyes glinting.

“You’re a scary person, Marina Reyes,” I tell her, suppressing a shudder.

“I know,” she smirks. She looks damn proud of my words.

“I’m not sure what’s more scary: the fact that you are, or the fact that you’re actually happy at that description.”

Marina cackles. “How about both?” 

I can’t keep my body from shuddering this time. “Remind me,” I ask her. “Why did I fall in love with you, again?”

She shrugs. “I really, really, don’t know.”

“Me either,” I concur. “Now, I know that look. What are you after, Marina?”

“You know what,” she says. “How are you and Zane?”

“We’re… fine,” I venture. “We’re working together on this project.”

“And nothing has happened? You’ve kept it completely professional?” Marina prods.

“Yes,” I say, a slight blush dusting my cheeks.

“You’re no fun, BC Adams-Foster-Stevens,” she groans. “I have much to teach you.”

“About what?” I question, slightly scared at the answer.

“About how to make a move on someone who you clearly want and who clearly reciprocates said interest.”

I sigh. “Marina, as much as I love you, did you even stop to think that maybe you’re the reason that either of us haven’t made a move?”

“And why would I be the reason?” she asks, confused. “We broke up. There isn’t anything stopping the two of you.”

“Oh, and are you forgetting the number you did on him when you found out he kissed me? Am I supposed to be like “Hey, sorry my best friend and ex-girlfriend gave you hell, but would you like to go out with me sometime?’”

For the first time I’ve rendered my firecracker of a best friend speechless. “That’s what I thought,” I say smugly. “And, by the way, I know how to make a move, I assure you.”

“Oh?” she questions. “And when have you made a move on anybody?”

“I thought you’d never ask,” I snark good-naturedly. “If you can’t bother to recall, we we’re 12 and at the reception of my Dads wedding.”

“Oh, can it!” Marina dismisses, with a teasing color to her voice. “Stop talking and bread those chicken fingers so we can feed your siblings.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” I say crisply, giving a mock-salute, before turning back to my task. 

With my back turned, I hear a muttered comment of “Smartass,” and I break out into a grin…  
*****  
With dinner finished, the four of us settle into the living room and put on one of my innumerable animated films, this time a Japanese-animated film from Studio Ghibli.

“You know, I’ve never actually seen a work by this studio…” Marina admits.

I gape at her in shock. “You dated me for 2 years and I never sat you down and introduced you to the wondrous world of Studio Ghibli?”

She shakes her head, and I immediately put in the film that got me started when I was 7.

“Watch and be amazed,” I say. 

At the end of the film, Hannah wants to be the heroine, Christian is beaming at his sister’s enthusiasm, and Marina is looking at me in awe.

“If that’s one of his earlier and more simple works, I can’t wait until I see something a little more complicated.”

“And I have just the one!” I announce.

“Why does that not surprise me?” she asks, faking annoyance. A chime goes off and she pulls out her phone, glancing at the screen before getting up from the couch.

“I have to go,” she tells me. “I’m late for curfew.”

She hugs Hannah, waves at Christian and leans down to press a kiss into my cheek, before seeing herself out.

When the door has closed, I move to lock it, and then turn to address the twins. “Alright,” I say. “Time to get ready for bed, and then we can come back down and watch a little more TV before we go to sleep, okay?”

“Ok!” they chorus, rushing towards the stairs, and drawing a laugh out of me as they practically fall over each other to get up to the second level.

“One at a time, you two!” I call, with a fond sternness to my voice, because its cute, but I really don’t want them to get hurt.

I settle back into the couch, just getting comfortable when my phone goes off. Thinking it’s my Dads, I pull the device from the front pocket of my shorts.

Zane: Can I come over this weekend to work on the project? I think we should finish it up.

BC: Sounds good. I’ll have to check of course, but right now, I don’t see an issue with that.

Zane: I also think the two of us are due for a little chat.

Well, fuck. To be honest, I kind of knew this was coming, but I’ve been trying to hold it off as long as humanly possible. 

I groan just as the twins make their way back into the room, and take their spots on the couch, on either side of me.

“What’s wrong, BC?” Hannah asks innocently.

I give her a weak smile. “Nothing, sweetheart,” I assure her. “I’m okay. Let’s just watch some TV.”

I turn my attention to a late-night cartoon program that the twins found. My eyes suddenly feel heavy, as if it’s a chore to keep them open any longer. The green numbers on my wristwatch display show 9:00.

I tilt my head to the side and close my eyes. I’m asleep in minutes.


	35. Chapter 34

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Jude and Connor plan BC's upcoming birthday party, and finally meet Zane, before our family enjoys some quality time together.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters; I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it. The only characters I claim ownership of are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens (née Anderson), Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even though he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, and the twins, Hannah and Christian Davis, as well as any other characters I wish to create and insert into this story in the future.

“He’s not going to need one of those Quinceanera things, is he?” Connor questions, as the two of us sit at the kitchen table, eating breakfast and planning for BC’s upcoming birthday. 

“No, love,” I laugh. “But knowing how Mariana is a wedding planner, she’ll probably talk us into something equally as extravagant.”

“I have no doubt,” Connor agrees, joining in on my laughter. “My wallet is already crying.”

“I’m sure it is,” I acknowledge. “That said, why don’t we just ask BC what he wants to do?”

“No!” Connor exclaims emphatically. “That’ll ruin the surprise!”

“You really want to surprise him this year, don’t you?” I ask.

“Yes,” Connor pouts.

I sigh. “You are such a child sometimes, Con.”

“But you love me,” Connor says smugly, stretching over the table.

“Always,” I confirm, meeting him halfway for a kiss.

We stay like that, losing ourselves in each other until the moment is broken by an exasperated, yet resigned voice.

“Do I even want to know, Dads?” BC questions.

“Sorry,” Connor and I chorus sheepishly. 

“And yet, you never sound sorry at all,” BC deadpans. “What’s for breakfast?”

“I made bacon and eggs,” I inform him, lowering myself back into my seat.

“Excellent!” he beams. “I should go wake the twins, then.”

He turns to exit, before he immediately turns back. “Oh, yeah,” he says. “I nearly forgot to ask… can Zane come over this afternoon so the two of us can finish our project?”

“Sure, buddy,” Connor and I tell him.

“And please promise me that you two will be on your best behavior and not try to embarrass me,” he nearly begs.

“Of course, buddy,” I say immediately. For as much as we love to tease him, we’re always aware that there are boundaries or times where we have to hold our tongue.

“We promise,” Connor adds.

BC exhales. “Thank you,” he says gratefully, before taking his leave to go get the twins up. 

Connor and I finish our respective plates, and lean back in our chairs, enjoying a few moments of solitude before it’s unceremoniously shattered. 

“Babe?” Connor asks.

I open my eyes. “Yeah, Con?”

“What do you think of having a family outing tonight, after I get off of work? We haven’t had one in a while…”

“What did you have in mind?” I question.

“A family dinner and a walk along the pier?” he replies.

“Sounds perfect!” I exclaim.

“I’m glad you think so,” he says, before switching gears. “So, we finally get to meet this Zane character we’ve heard so much about…”

“Yeah,” I nod. “It’ll be good, I think.”

“Well…” Connor chuckles, trailing off.

“Well, what?” I prod.

“I don’t know about it being good, but it will unquestionably be interesting. Your family’s history with such events isn’t exactly sterling.”

“Point taken,” I concede. “You should go get dressed, Con. Remember, you have an important meeting today.”

His eyes widen, and he sneaks a glance at the time. 

“I’m running late!” he realizes. He pushes his chair out, and comes to peck me on the lips. “I’ll see you when I get home, babe.”

“Have a good day, love,” I respond against his lips. 

With that, he rushes to the bedroom to shower and change. In record time, he’s out the door, leaving me to contend with three hungry charges, and an afternoon houseguest…

*****  
I sit on the couch, sipping a tea, and waiting for BC’s guest to arrive. As I look out the bay window in the living room, I can’t help but sink into the memory of when I met Connor’s mother for the first time as his boyfriend 13 years ago…

*Flashback*

It’s been a few weeks since the conversation that made Connor and I officially a couple, and I’m spending time at his home for the first time since then. Connor greeted me at the door, with a blank-faced Adam standing closely behind him.

I politely greeted him nonetheless, and extended my hand to Connor, who took it, and led me to the living room, where we’re currently on the couch watching a movie.

A knock sounds at the door, and Adam goes to answer it. From the entranceway, Connor and I can hear him as he swings the door wide.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asks, sounding shocked and piquing the interest of both Connor and I.

“Who do you think it is?” I question.

“I have no idea, Jude,” Connor replies.

Suddenly, Adam’s voice rings loud through the house. “I didn’t say you could see him, Mary!” he exclaims.

I look over to Connor and I see his eyes light up. “My mom is here?” he breathes. “But she lives up in L.A.”

“I know, Con,” I inform him. “You’ve only told me thousands of times before. I’ve been looking forward to meeting her for a while, based off what you’ve told me about her.”

His mother’s voice rings out just then, interrupting our conversation. “Go to hell, Adam!” she says casually. “He’s my son too, and you only have physical custody because we agreed he shouldn’t be uprooted by the divorce. I still have every right to see him.”

I can hear Adam huff in annoyance, and footsteps getting closer. Soon she’s standing in the doorway to the living room, and Connor is hugging her for all it’s worth.

I smile softly, still rooted to my spot on the couch.

“I missed you so much, Mom,” Connor tells her. 

“I missed you too, Con,” she responds. “I thought it had been too long, so I took the train from L.A. to surprise you.”

“Well, consider me surprised!” Connor exclaims. “In the best way possible, of course.”

“I’m glad,” she says, ruffling his hair. She looks up, and meets my eyes for the first time.

“Oh, I’m sorry!” she says. “I wasn’t aware Connor had company.”

“It’s okay,” I inform her. “He only talks about you all the time. It’s good to finally put a face to the name.”

“Let me guess, you’re the Jude that I’ve heard so much about from Connor.”

“That’s right, ma’am,” I confirm.

She releases Connor, and comes toward me. I sit up, and she wraps me in a hug. 

“I’m glad to finally meet you, Jude,” she tells me. “Thank you for being such a good friend to Connor.”

Connor clears his throat nervously. “Actually mom, Jude’s more than just my friend…”

I can’t help but gasp. Mary feels me stiffen, and only proceeds to hug me tighter. “Well,” she says. “I guess I owe you an even bigger thank you, then, Jude. For making him so happy.”

“You’re okay with this?” Connor asks, hopefully. 

She releases me, and turns back to him. “You thought I wouldn’t be?” she asks. “I haven’t seen or heard you this happy since before your father and I divorced. I’m absolutely okay with it. I just want you to be happy.”

I see Connor visibly relax, and he moves to hug her again. “I love you, Mom,” he says, so quiet that I can just hear it.

“I love you too, Connor,” she tells him, kissing the top of his head.

They release each other, and Connor comes to sit back on the couch with me, twining his fingers with mine.

“You better take good care of him, Jude,” she tells me. “But from how Connor speaks about you, I’d say you’re doing a pretty great job of that so far.”

“Thank you, ma’am,” I say. “I promise he’s in good hands.”

“Good!” she beams. “Now, what do you say the three of us go out for dinner?”

“I wouldn’t want to intrude on your time with Connor, ma’am,” I intone politely.

“That’s sweet but unnecessary,” she replies. “I want you to come with us.”

“Well then, I’ll graciously accept your invitation,” I inform her. “I just have to text my Moms.”

I fish my phone out of my pocket to begin composing the text message.

“Jude?” Connor’s mother calls my attention back to her.

“Yes, ma’am?” I ask.

“Please stop calling me ma’am,” she pleads. “My name is Mary. Ma’am sounds too old, and I’d rather not be called Mrs. Stevens for obvious reasons…”

“Of course,” I allow. “Thank you, Mary.”

“My pleasure,” she smiles. “Now, if you excuse me, I believe I’m due for a small chat with my ex-husband. I’ll be back.”

“Take your time,” Connor assures her.

“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do, son!” she calls as she moves to go find Adam.

Connor and I blush, and wait until she’s out of earshot before speaking.

He sighs out. “That went so much better than I’d even dreamed it would.”

“Your mom is amazing!” I agree. “I’m so proud of you, Con. That took a lot of courage.”

“Thanks,” he says shyly, rubbing the back of his neck. “Now what do you say we finish this movie before we go for dinner?”

“Sounds good,” I agree.

*End Flashback*

Snapping back to the present, I hear a knock on my own door. As I stand to answer it, I make a vow to myself that I’ll be just as accepting as Mary was to me all those years ago.

I can hear BC run down the stairs, and he ends up beating me to the door. I hear him open it, and greet our guest.

“Hey, Zane,” he says.

“Hey, BC,” he responds.

“Come on in, and we can get started, okay?”

At this point, I make my presence known. “And forgo an introduction?” I chide BC gently. “You know both your father and I wouldn’t stand for that.”

“Sorry Daddy,” he smiles sheepishly. “This is Zane. Zane, this is one of my Dads.”

I turn towards the teenager, who meets my gaze with wide eyes. I smile and extend my hand. “I’m Jude,” I tell him. “It’s very nice to meet you.”

He meets my hand halfway in a shake. “Likewise, sir,” he says politely. “Thank you for having me.”

“You’re very welcome, Zane,” I respond. “Now, I’ll leave you to finish up on your project. Let me know if you two need anything, okay?”

They nod, and move to head upstairs. I catch BC’s eyes and he mouths a grateful “Thank you” to me.

I give him a thumb’s up and a nod before the two of them disappear out of sight.

My notification ring tone sounds, alerting me to a new text. Extracting my phone, I can’t keep in a short laugh:

Connor: What do you think? This Zane character a good guy?

Jude: From what I can see so far, yeah. He was very polite and gracious. I’ll let you make up your own mind, though.

Connor: Ok, then. I’m just leaving the stadium now. Meeting went well, we all seem to be on the same page with the plans for the rest of the rebuilding effort. Now, we just have to stick to it.

Jude: I have faith in you, Con.

Connor: Thanks, babe, I love you.

Jude: I love you, too.

Connor: See you when I get home.

Jude: I’m counting down the minutes. Remember what you promised BC earlier.

Connor: Yeah, yeah.

Jude: Connor… 

Connor: Jude…

Jude: Best behavior or you’ll be sleeping on the couch tonight.

Connor: Don’t be hasty, babe.

Jude: Have I ever said something I didn’t mean?

Connor: Never.

Jude: Exactly!

I can tell by his next text that he’s very worried.

Connor: Have you been talking with Taylor lately?

I laugh out loud at this, and decide to have a little fun with him. I put my phone on vibrate before slipping it back into my pocket. I ignore the insistent vibration that follows. He can wait until he gets home to talk to me.

BC and Zane come down to pick through the pantry, before quietly heading back up. I can hear Hannah and Christian in the living room bickering over which movie they want to watch. 

I head in to diffuse the situation, and they beg me to watch the film with them. Bonding with them has been slightly more difficult than it was with BC, so I’m happy for the opportunity to spend time together. 

About halfway through the film, I hear the door swing open. I smirk, knowing Connor’s home. I can’t wait to see what he thought of my little game.

“Jude!” he calls.

“Coming, babe,” I call back, moving to lift myself off the couch.

I walk to the foyer and quickly wrap my arms around Connor’s neck. “Welcome home, husband,” I say lovingly, pecking his lips.

“You’re in big trouble,” Connor intones.

“Oh, please!” I dismiss with a wave. “You loved it.”

Connor huffs, but the small smile and near-imperceptible nod give him away. He almost never gets angry with me, and even when he does, he can never stay that way for long.

“Is our guest still here?” Connor asks.

I nod. “Remember what I said, please.”

“Yes, babe,” he sighs.

“Good,” I smirk. “They’re upstairs if you want to introduce yourself, and then you can join the twins and I in finishing a movie before we get ready for dinner, okay?”

“Sounds perfect,” he beams.

*****  
I’ve always loved coming down to the pier, especially at night. The moonlight’s pale glow dances on your face, giving just the right amount of illumination to everything as you dangle your feet into the water and listen to the waves crash soothingly into the shore.

Currently, the five of us are strolling along the beach. BC is engaging Hannah and Christian in racing, and they’re all laughing.

I’m struck by how perfect my life is right now. My kids are happy, and I have the most amazing man standing right beside me.

If anyone would’ve told me when I was in foster care that I would have the life I currently have, I would’ve laughed in their face.

But, if I’ve learned anything, it’s that fate works in mysterious ways and that everything happens for a reason. 

“What are you thinking about, love?” a voice asks.

I snap out of my little reverie and feel Connor embrace me from behind, kissing my neck lightly.

“Just how perfect this moment is,” I say.

“It is indeed,” Connor agrees.

Down the beach, we see Hannah, Christian and BC collapse onto the sand in laughter. Connor laughs in my ear, and I join him.

“Brings me back to doing baseball plays in your backyard,” he says to me.

“I do still know how to kick, you know?” I laugh jokingly.

“I’m afraid I already got a demonstration of that,” he responds. “Learned that day to NEVER flick your foot again.”

“Damn right,” I agree with another laugh.

“I love you,” he says suddenly.

I crane my neck. “I love you, too, you big sap,” I tell him, sealing our lips together.

After a few chaste kisses, Connor pulls back and re-takes my hand. “Shall we join them?”

“Lead the way, good sir,” I say regally.

We run along the beach ourselves until we catch up with our kids. We spend a few more hours building sandcastles and watching the stars before Hannah and Christian both fall asleep.

BC carries Hannah and Connor carries Christian as the five of us make our way up the beach, and eventually, back down the pier to the car.

What none of us noticed was a shadowy figure watching us intently as we drove away…


	36. Chapter 35

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC has his birthday party, but some expected guests put a damper on the festivities...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or its characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do own are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams (even if he’s out of the story), Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson and the twins, Hannah and Christian Davis, as well as any further characters I choose to create and insert into this story in the future.

“Who the hell is at the door this early in the morning?” I grumble sourly when the doorbell sounds as Jude and I work to cook BC a big birthday breakfast.

For his part, my husband tilts his head sideways in thought. “I have no idea, Con,” he says finally. “Do you want to go see who it is? I’ll finish cooking and get plates.”

“Alright,” I nod. “I’ll tell whoever it is to fuck off. It’s probably some random salesperson anyway.”

“Be polite!” Jude admonishes as I make my way to the door, the annoying melody of the doorbell becoming more frequent the longer it goes unanswered.

“I’m coming!” I yell. “Do you have any idea what time it… Marina? Zane? What are you two doing her so early in the morning? The party isn’t until this afternoon.”

Marina fixes me with an overly sweet smile, “Good morning, Connor!” she chirps, surprisingly alert for 6:30 in the morning. “Don’t mind us, we just wanted to come by and spend some time with BC before everyone else arrived. Can we come in?”

Before my brain catches up with my body, I step aside and allow them entry. “Where’s BC?” they ask.

Before I can answer, another voice enters the fray. “I’m right here,” it says, and I turn around to see my son rubbing at his eyes tiredly.

“Good morning, buddy!” I offer. “Happy birthday!”

“Thanks, Dad,” he says before turning to our unexpected company. 

“Ringing the doorbell just once is usually enough, you know?” he laughs.

“I know!” Marina exclaims. “But this is me we’re talking about. Besides, I did bring your boyfriend along too”

BC chuckles, wrapping Marina in a hug. “He’s not my boyfriend, Marina. But I love you anyway.”

“Correction, BC,” Marina says. “Yet. He isn’t your boyfriend yet.”

As BC and Marina’s banter continues, I can’t help but notice Zane is blushing. I walk over to him.

“Be patient with my son,” I whisper. “He’s yours, even if he won’t admit it quite yet.”

Zane startles, and then looks at me curiously. “How do you know?” he whispers back.

“Because I know my son,” I say. “He isn’t always the most open when it comes to telling you how he feels, but he shows his feelings quite well. You just have to be patient and able to recognize when his actions are saying what he can’t put into words.”

Zane smiles. “I can do that!” he tells me, still whispering.

“I have no doubt of that,” I respond.

When the two of us have finished our whispered conversation, we’re greeted by twin glares from BC and Marina.

“Dad,” BC says knowingly. “What were you and Zane talking about?"

"Nothing!” I say quickly.

“Zane?” Marina questions. 

“Nothing!” he confirms, backing me up.

“I don’t believe you,” Marina determines. “How about you, BC?”

“Not for a second,” he agrees, smiling widely, while his eyes glint mischievously.

“Breakfast is ready!” Jude calls. “Will we be needing extra plates?”

I’ve never been happier to hear Jude’s voice. Saved by the husband. Literally.

*****  
The party begins in earnest by the early afternoon. Jesus is first to arrive, shouting boisterously in Spanish, and dragging Mariana with him. The rest of our family follows shortly thereafter. 

Everyone is having a fabulous time, when Jude appears at the patio door. “Con, someone’s at the door asking to speak with you.”

“Is it urgent?” I question.

“I don’t know,” Jude says. “I didn’t recognize them, but they said that you would.”

That strikes me as odd. Jude knows the same people I do, save for some of my colleagues in the MLB, and I can’t think of a single reason one of them couldn’t call me if they had business to discuss. Not that I would have taken the call, given today’s occasion, but I could’ve at least seen that they had called, and make a note to call them when I returned to the office.

I’m so lost in my internal musings that I fail to notice I haven’t given Jude any kind of indication that I had heard him. He appears in front of me, gazing up at me with concerned eyes.

“You okay, love?” he asks.

I snap out of my reverie and look down at him. “Yeah, I’m fine, babe,” I assure him, and I see the concern immediately leave his features. “I’ll go deal with whoever’s at the door. It’s probably one of my colleagues from the league."

Jude nods. “Go on then,” he says, giving me a quick peck on the lips. “I’ll make sure everything is good out here. Don’t take too long though.”

“I wouldn’t dream of it, babe,” I assure him. “If it’s one of my colleagues, I’ll tell them to call my office when I return to work. I might slip a few choice words about appropriate time and place in there, too.”

“If you need me for anything, just call out, okay”

“I doubt that will be necessary, but if you’re needed for any reason, I’ll let you know.”

“Good,” he says.

I step inside, and make my way to the door to greet my unexpected guest. As I get my first glimpse of them, my eyes widen.

“What the hell are you doing here?” I grit out, teeth barred.

Alex Meyer is sweating profusely, as if he’s nervous. He rubs his neck, and refuses to look me in the eye.

I’m about to prompt him to speak, because frankly, I have no time today to entertain him but, before I can, I hear BC yell from the backyard.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he snaps. “And on my birthday, of all days? Why would you think it’s even remotely okay to show up here? How the hell did you even get my address?"

I notice Alex trying to make a break for it, and I immediately grab for his arm. 

“Oh, no you don’t!” I tell him. “You’re coming with me.”

I drag him through the house to the backyard, where the party has basically frozen in place. No one dares to move or speak. BC is clutching Zane’s hand and breathing in angry gasps, while giving the person across from him an epic glare.

Standing across from him, to my shock, is one Michael James Callahan.


	37. Chapter 36

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The uninvited guests get dealt with...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or its characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills.
> 
> The only characters I claim ownership are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olson, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, Hannah and Christian Davis, Michael James Callahan and Alex Meyer as well as any other OC’s that I choose to introduce in future chapters

I’m talking to Zane when I first feel the cold, calloused, unfamiliar hand clamp down on my shoulder. I immediately tense up and rip my shoulder from the hold as I spin around to face this stranger… who turns out to be someone who’s no stranger to me, at all…

The hand belongs to none other than my abusive ex-foster brother Michael Callahan. I immediately put some distance between us and grab Zane’s hand in a vice grip, squeezing tightly. 

“What the hell are you doing here?” I snap. “And on my birthday of all days? Why would you think it was even remotely okay to show up here? How did you even get my address?”

The party falls completely silent at my outburst. My breath comes in angry gasps and my features draw into a stone-cold glare. I can see fear begin to creep into Michael’s eyes and if I wasn’t so pissed off, I would be proud.

Zane, for his part doesn’t flinch at my acidic tone, nor does he wince at my tight grip on his hand. I must be causing him to lose circulation but he only continues to squeeze back, as though to offer his silent support to me. His dark and mysterious aura works wonders at backing me up, even if I realize I still have so much more to learn about him, and an equal amount that I still have to tell him about me.

Resolving to deal with one issue at a time, I snap out of my internal monologue and address my former foster brother.

“I told you after our conversation at the restaurant that I never wanted to see you again, but since you’re here, I think we’d all like an explanation. I wouldn’t be surprised if your parents didn’t teach you, but it is rude to just show up at a party that you certainly weren’t invited to.”

My father speaks out before Michael has a chance to respond. “It is curious that we would have two unexpected—and wholly unwelcome, may I add—guests at the same time. It wouldn’t happen to be anything other than a coincidence, would it?”

“You’ll never make me talk,” a man I don’t recognize says as my father guides him to stand where Michael is currently standing. The rest of the family wisely forms a circle around them, so that they have nowhere to run.

From the corner of my eye, I see Kieran, Jacob, Hannah and Christian enter the house and shut the patio door.

‘Good,’ I think to myself. ‘They’ve seen enough of this as it is.’

My attention returns to the confrontation at hand. I feel both of my Dad’s come up behind me, each placing a hand on my shoulder. I feel Zane finally remove his fingers from mine, and I look at him questioningly.

“Trust me,” he says quietly, for only me to hear.

“I trust you,” I confirm, and he takes that as all the permission he needs to approach the two in the middle of the circle.

“Listen,” he growls. “You have two options: you either talk or I will make you talk. I will not have you ruin what’s supposed to be a celebratory gathering with your vague, evasive bullshit.”

“I’m in the military,” Michael retorts.

“And I’m former athlete,” the man I don’t recognize adds, taking the briefest of moments to glare in disdain at my Dad. “What do you think you’ll be able to do that would make both of us talk?”

Zane chuckles, a dark humorless sound that sounds foreign coming from his mouth. “You’d be surprised what one has the opportunity to learn when they basically raise themselves. I know a lot more than you would ever have had the chance to learn. What matters right now, is that I know BC doesn’t want either of you here, and as someone who cares about him, even if I don’t always show it or say it in the right ways, I will do everything that I can to ensure that your very rude disruption does not interfere with his happiness, especially today. So you will talk, and everyone assembled here will listen. And then you’ll go, and we’ll get back to celebrating. Understood?”

Zane, having finished saying his peace, returns to my side and laces his fingers with mine. I can read his face like a book, a myriad of emotions taking residence there currently. I see a degree of fear, hope and vulnerability in equal measure. Beneath it all however, there’s a hint of tremendous satisfaction and his usual bravado.

Having realized that he was more open and honest than he has probably ever been, I squeeze his hand and whisper a quiet, “Thank you,” for his ears only.

He only nods, acknowledging my thanks. His eyes are focused forward, but if I look closely, I’m able to see the heated red hue of a blush.

I focus my own eyes forward and see them hemming and hawing, not really wanting to speak, but failing to find any useful diversion.

“My husband's mother is a cop,” my father tells the two of them. “We could easily have already called 911, but given how she’s here— and fully equipped to do her job, might I add—I think it would save you a lot of trouble if you just did as Zane suggested and tell us what we want to know.”

Grandma Stef steps forward, flashing her badge and handcuffs. It serves as all the incentive they need.

“We were told to come here…” Michael admits, growling at his confession.

“I figured as much,” my Dad says. “By who?”

They look towards each other, as if to have a silent conversation but Daddy is having none of that. Having stayed silent throughout the entire exchange, and letting Dad take the lead, he finally reacts.

“MY HUSBAND ASKED YOU A QUESTION!” he yells. “WHO TOLD YOU TO COME HERE?”

“We only know his first name,” Michael says, looking startled at my father’s outburst.

“That’s enough,” Stef confirms. “What was the name of the person who told you to come here, and what exactly were you supposed to accomplish?”

The still-unidentified one remains defiantly silent, as he has throughout this entire debacle. It’s Michael who finally spits out the name. “Jack,” he tells us, and I can’t help but gasp. He can’t mean…

I hear both my fathers snarl. It’s obvious that everyone’s mind has simultaneously gone to the same place, even if Grandma Stef and Grandma Lena look as though they desperately want to believe it couldn’t be possible.

“BC,” my father asks me. “Would you mind if we temporarily suspended your party?”

I look up at him, startled to realize that he’s pale as a ghost and shaking with barely controlled anger. If my Dad lets go of his hand, he’ll probably lose it. 

“Not at all,” I assure him.

“All right, then,” he nods. “Let’s go!” 

*****  
Thanks to Michael, and his cohort—whom I learn from my Dad is named Alex Meyer—we’re able to quickly identify my “uncle” (and I merely use that term as a formality, I assure you) as the mastermind behind the two of them being at my party. He knows my birthday and he’s undoubtedly crazy enough to think up some delusional scheme. What they told us about his plans makes us all the more certain that we are indeed dealing with the person we all wish we weren’t.

A call to his asylum out of state tells us that he escaped some time ago. Needless to say the place has since improved security but that does nothing to comfort any of us.

“It’s me he wants,” my father says. “I’m the one he’s always wanted. None of this would’ve happened if…”

“If what?” I cut in. “If you had only been able to love him the way he wanted you to? You can’t think like that, Daddy.”

“BC’s right, babe,” my Dad agrees. “You’re not responsible for your brother’s actions, and I’m not going to let you feel guilty for something you had no control over.”

“But…” he attempts to argue. I cover his hand with my gently and look him right in the eye.

“No buts,” I say firmly. “Do you understand? This is not, and never will be your fault. You gave Jack chances; you tried to help him as much as you could. You were the best brother that you could possibly be, even given the circumstances. You couldn’t have done anything more. We’ll get through this the same way we get through everything… as a family.”

Once my monologue is over, I notice tears streaking down my father’s face. “As a family,” he nods.

“As a family,” my Dad confirms. “Always.”

*****  
A tense few weeks passes in the Adams-Foster-Stevens household. We go about our daily lives as normally as we can, but of course, we take precaution. The threat of Jack looms too large over our entire family for it to be ignored.

I’m in the kitchen making dinner with my father when I receive a call on my cell phone. A glimpse at the display reveals only that the call comes from an “Unknown Number.”

I nudge my father, and see his eyes widen as he takes in the display for himself. “Answer it. Put in on speaker.”

I do as requested. “Hello?”

“Long time no see, BC,” the voice on the other line greets. I don’t recognize the voice as Jack’s, and look to my father curiously. He merely shrugs. We have no way of knowing if this is Jack or not. He could be distorting his voice, or it could be someone else entirely, another pawn in his twisted game.

“I wasn’t aware I’d met you before,” I tell them. “But if I have, it hasn’t been long enough.”

“Don’t get smart,” the voice warns. “You have met me, I made sure to leave quite the impression last time.”

I still have nightmares sometimes about the “last time.” Jack definitely did make an impression, for lack of better words.

Right now though, I desperately need to find a way to figure out if he’s the one I’m speaking with.

I rack my brain for something only he would react to, or know. “It’s been about 2 years, hasn’t it?” I question.

“So, you do remember!” the voice replies.

“You always do have a way of showing up on the most important days of my life. With all that effort, I don’t know how I could ever have forgotten.”

“Excellent!” I can hear the voice beaming on the other end of the line. I’m almost certain it’s him. Glancing at my father, I can tell he knows it too.

“Only, this time, you had two other people do it for you, didn’t you?” I ask. 

When I get no reply, I press forward.

“Isn’t that right, Uncle Jack?” Calling him “Uncle” sickens me to the core, because that title is reserved for Uncle Jesus, Uncle Brandon and Uncle Theo, but it’s the only way to know for sure.

Judging by the way that the dial tone quickly fills my ears, I’d say I was correct in my assumption.

“I’m 100 percent sure that was him,” I tell my father.

“I’ll call your Grandma,” he nods, before getting an intense, almost feral look in his eyes. “One way or another, this ends now.”


	38. Chapter 37

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The family discusses how to handle Jack in the wake of his latest stunt, and Stef proposes a risky plan that might just work...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or it’s characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to sharpen my writing skills. The only characters I do own are my OC’s: BC Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olson, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, Hannah and Christian Davis, Michael James Callahan and Alex Meyer as well as any other OC’s that I choose to introduce in future chapters

“He’s gone too far this time, Stef!” Connor argues to my Mom. “He’s threatened my husband and one of my kids. What’s next? It seems like there isn’t anything he won’t do, and he’s doing this all because Jude can’t love him the way he wants. I know he’s your son, but Jude and I are too, and we have a family of our own that we need to protect.”

At present, Connor, BC and I are sitting around the kitchen table with my Mom, debating the best way to deal with Jack. My mother heaves a sigh and turns to look at me.

“What do you think about all of this, Jude?” she asks. “Jack is your brother, and before that, he was your friend.”

“I know,” I nod. “And to be honest, I don’t know what to think. Connor is right about one thing though: he and I need to do what’s best for our family.”

“I know, love,” she assures me, grasping my hand and rubbing it in a reassuring manner.

“I’ve given him so many chances,” I tell her. “I’ve tried to help him so many times. Now, I’m just scared, and I haven’t felt that way in over a decade. His presence hangs over this entire family like a cloud. It has to stop… I just want it to stop.”

I feel a tear roll down my cheek, and move to wipe it. I feel Connor’s arm encircle me protectively.

“It’s okay, Jude,” he says soothing, pressing a kiss to my temple. “He’s not going to hurt our family any more. We’ll figure this out, I promise.”

“Thank you, love,” I tell him. “But we’ve never been in the habit of making promises that we can’t keep, and I definitely don’t want us to start now.”

In response, Connor pulls me as far into his body as he can without making me fall off my chair. He doesn’t say anything, but I can feel him nod into my hair as he hugs me strongly to his chest.

We pull apart, and I already miss the comfort that only he can bring. I fix my gaze on my mother. “What do you suggest, Mom?”

She bites her lip, and looks down. I’ve seen her do something similar when she has to tell Mama something that she knows won’t go over well. 

“Mom?” I prompt. “I know that look… What are you not telling us? And why do you think we’ll react badly?”

She looks up, and takes a deep breath, no doubt steeling herself. I feel Connor tense up beside me.

“I want to use BC as a decoy,” she says. “I talked to the head of the department and she agreed that in most cases like this, such a tactic leads to an arrest. It will give Jack a false sense of security and we’ll be able to take him into custody.”

“Would an arrest even work?” Connor questions. “I honestly think he’s past the point where he can be rehabilitated, and he even escaped from an out-of-state mental institution.”

“It’s protocol,” my Mom replies carefully.

“I didn’t ask if it was protocol,” Connor retorts. “I asked if, in your professional opinion, you thought an arrest would work.”

“I’m as confident as I can be,” she says, again appearing to choose her words carefully.

“So you’re not 100% confident?” Connor challenges. “And you want me to risk my son’s life? I’m sorry, Stef, it just isn’t going to happen.”

“Con, please,” I cut in, putting a hand on his bicep.

“No, Jude,” he snaps. “I’m not exposing our son to Jack. It’s just not going to happen.”

Silence falls over the four of us at Connor’s words, before BC’s voice cuts through, determined. “What if I actually want to do this?” he asks.

“Absolutely not!” Connor refutes instantaneously. “You’re 15. I’m not putting you in needless danger. I’m not going to willfully expose you to a sociopath.”

“But I’ve already been exposed!” BC exclaims. “He’s the reason I have to watch my back whenever I go out, and he’s the reason I’ve been having nightmares for the first time in three years. When he called, he made me feel uncomfortable. And are we all forgetting what happened on my adoption day?”

“But…” Connor intones, and BC’s head snaps up.

“No buts, Dad,” he says sharply, leveling a glare at Connor that would make me very proud if we were in any other situation. “I trust Grandma Stef, and if she thinks that I’ll be able to help in this way, then I’m very well going to.”

My mother and I just sit there awkwardly as my husband and my son stare each other down. Eventually, Connor throws his head back and sighs.

“Fine,” he says. “But let the record show I’m far from okay with this. And if he even tries to hurt you in any way…”

“I know, babe,” I interject. “And I’ll be right there with you.”

With everything as settled it’s going to get, BC turns his attention on my mother.

“So Grandma, what exactly do you need me to do?”

*****  
As it turns out, the first thing my mother requests from BC is that he wait. She wants Jack to make contact with him again, and from there, she’ll alert her boss and this plan of hers will really get moving.

It’s a simple plan, not unlike the one that led to the downfall of Dean Williams. But this is Jack, not Dean. Jack is infinitely more unhinged and dangerous than Dean could ever hope to be.

I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t worried. My deranged adoptive brother is going to be in the same vicinity as my adopted son, and my son’s life will be in danger because of it. 

But if BC has the strength to survive in foster care and forgive the man who killed his parents for the sake of that man’s widow, I truly believe that he has the strength to deal with anyone or anything… including Jack.

*****  
BC has Zane over when it happens, shattering two weeks of blissful peace. I’m making dinner when I hear two sets of rapid footsteps on the stairs.

“Guys, what did I say about running on the stairs?” I call out. “I know dinner smells good, but it’s not quite ready yet.”

When I look up from the stove and into two pairs of scared eyes, dinner becomes the last thing on my mind.

“What’s wrong?” I ask, hoping against all hope that it isn’t what I think it is.

“It’s time,” BC informs me. “Call Grandma Stef. Now.”

I turn off the stove, and move to call first my mother, and then my husband. All the while, I’m putting my arms through the sleeves of my coat, jamming my feet into my shoes, grabbing my keys from their hook by the door and calling for my other kids.

BC follows my lead, with Zane getting dragged helplessly behind him.

***  
The next hour or so is spent collecting Connor from his office and watching my son get fitted with a wire and a camera, all while my Mom and her boss brief BC on the finer details of how everything will play out.

“I feel like I’m in one of those action movies!” he exclaims at one point. “Is this how you felt when you went head-to-head with Dean Williams?”

Connor and I can’t help but to chuckle at that. Even amidst all the chaos and uncertainty, he still has his sense of humor. 

“You’re silly, BC!” Hannah intones.

“And that’s putting it mildly,” Christian agrees good-naturedly.

“Hey!” he exclaims, hugging both of them. “I’m your big brother, you’re supposed to be nice to me!”

“Well, no one told us that,” Christian teases. “As you once said, as your siblings, we’re the only ones who have the right to tease you.”

“Using my own words against me, are you?” he questions. “Well played, bro.”

“What can I say?” Christian tells him. “I learned from the best.”

“Touché!” BC laughs, ruffling Christian’s hair affectionately. 

The sweet moment is reluctantly ended by my Mom, who informs us that it’s time to head out to the address Jack specified.

He responds by hugging his siblings tightly. “I love you both, so much,” he tells them.

“Do you have to do this?” Hannah asks. “I don’t want you to go.”

For a fraction of a second, BC looks heartbroken, but quickly schools his features into a confident, determined mask.

“Yes, I do,” he tells her. “I have to do this, for our family.”

“You’re coming back though, right?” she continues.

“That’s the plan,” he assures her.

“Promise?” she asks, clinging to him desperately.

“I can’t make a promise that I’m not sure I’ll be able to keep,” he tells her honestly. “But I trust Grandma Stef and her team, and I promise to do everything I can to be back for dinner.”

It’s about as much of a promise as he can make under these circumstances, and it seems to placate Hannah, who reluctantly lets him go.

My mom puts a hand on his shoulder. “You ready, kid?” she asks.

“As ready as I can be,” he assures her. “Though I doubt even the most experienced person is ever really ready for something like this.”

“If you really don’t want to,” my Mom starts, but BC interrupts her before she can even finish.

“Don’t even think about it, Grandma,” he tells her. “I told you I’d do this, and I’m going to. This has to stop, one way or the other. Besides, he’s expecting me and to send anyone else would make it clear to anyone that it’s a set-up. He won’t let his guard down.”

“If there was any other way,” she starts again.

“I know,” BC nods, effectively cutting off her sentence yet again. He looks her right in the eye, and mustering every ounce of his courage and determination, he says three words.

“Let’s do this!”


	39. Chapter 38

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> BC comes face-to-face with Jack for the first time in two years. With his family's peace of mind hanging in the balance, he resolves to do all he can. One way or another, it all comes to an end...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or it’s characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to improve my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, Hannah and Christian Davis, Michael James Callahan and Alex Meyer, as well as any further OC’s I wish to introduce in the future.

We arrive at the dilapidated old warehouse where I’m to meet Jack and I immediately pull my features into a determined mask. I refuse to let this deranged sociopath know how much he truly scares me, and how uncomfortable I am in his presence. I have to pull this off, for my family’s sake. 

Knowing that they’re safely waiting nearby to take me home after is what gives me the strength and the courage to step from the vehicle and begin the long walk towards the warehouse.

I don’t know what waits for me beyond those sliding doors, but I do know that I’ll do whatever I have to in order for my family to have a peaceful life, no matter what the personal consequences. This has to end, and I have to end it. 

I have to end it for the Dads who’ve done so much for me, for the extended family that embraced me with open arms, for the girl who has been the best friend I could ever ask for, for the guy who has turned my life upside down in the best way possible, and for the siblings that I’ve grown to love more than life itself.

As I place my hand on the door to slide it open, I speak one time through the microphone that weighs heavily on my collar. “No matter what, I love you all.”

And with that, I slide the door open just enough to enter, before closing it again. “I’m here, Jack!” I call. “I came, just like you asked me to.”

He pokes his head around a non-descript corner, and his eyes widen. He smiles maniacally, but otherwise looks completely unassuming. My guard goes up immediately.

“It’s just you, right?” he questions.

I put my hands out in front of me with the palms up. “It’s just me,” I confirm.

He nods. “Are you going to come greet your uncle, then? Or didn’t your parents teach you manners?”

Carefully, I walk forward and draw him into an embrace. The entire time, I remain hyper-aware. I don’t know what he has planned, but I do remember exactly what he’s capable of.

I pull back. “So, I believe you asked to speak with me. You said it was important.”

“Oh, it’s very important, BC,” he assures me.

“Well, my parents don’t know I’m here, and I’ll have to get back home soon, so I think it’d be best if you started talking.”

“Tell me this first: How’s your parents relationship been? Is Jude still sickeningly in love with that Neanderthal?”

“With Connor?” I prompt, and Jack snarls.

“A word of advice, BC: Never say his name around me, ever.”

“Noted,” I agree. “Yes, he’s still in love with the Neanderthal, as you call him.”

“That… complicates things,” Jack says. “I’ll never understand what he sees in that brute that he calls a husband.”

I want to curse him out so badly, but I manage to bite my tongue. My father is not a brute, and he certainly isn’t a Neanderthal. And if Jack weren’t in some sick, deluded love with my other father, perhaps he’d be able to see exactly how much love my parents have for each other.

I remember my briefing from Grandma Stef and Captain Roberts. The key advice they gave me rings in my ears: “Whatever he says, just go along with it. Even if you don’t agree, the best way to ensure that Jack feels secure is to make him think that you’re on his side.”

So I swallow the bile in my throat and say, “I don’t know what he sees in him either.”

It’s impossible to miss the way Jack’s face lights up at my words, and I can only hope that my parents understand.

“So, you’re on my side, then?” he questions, seeming quite giddy at the prospect.

I don’t trust my words, so I just nod. It’s enough to send Jack off into an eerie, maniacal fit of laughter that sends chills up my body.

“Focus, Jack,” I snap. “I don’t have a lot of time, so I need you to tell me what you’re planning and then I need to go home.”

“I’m planning to take you and Jude away from him,” Jack states, as if it should be obvious. “Speaking of which, why didn’t you go with Michael when he came to pick you up at your birthday party? Alex had distracted your father perfectly…”

Oh, shit! What am I supposed to say to that?

He notices my hesitance and his eyes turn from quizzical to enraged within seconds. “ANSWER ME, BC!” 

“Michael didn’t give me any indication that he was working for you,” I lie through my teeth. “Plus, my other father was right there when he approached me. Even if I wanted to, I couldn’t go with him. And while we’re on the subject: You chose to work with my abusive ex-foster brother. Of all the people who you could’ve chosen, you chose him?”

“THAT INCOMPETENT FOOL!” Jack storms on, almost completely dismissing my words. 

“Yes, well Michael has never been too smart, generally speaking,” I inform him. “He didn’t even have the smarts to hit me where no one else would’ve been able to see it. He just had to hit me where it would be so blatantly obvious that someone was abusing me.”

I hate speaking in a dismissive way about the abuse I’ve suffered at Michael’s hand all because he was a spoiled brat, but the advice from Grandma and Captain Roberts has served me well so far.

“That’s true,” Jack concedes. “I’ll be sure to have a word with him later about that. You’re going to be my son, when this is all said and done, and I can’t forgive someone who dared to lay a hand on my son in any way.”

“Thank you,” I say meekly, hoping that I’m as good an actor in reality as I feel I am.

“I’d do anything for you, BC,” Jack intones, sounding completely genuine. 

Grandma Stef said that her team would be waiting for my signal. I just hope they’re able to get Jack before he tries to do anything to me.

I take a deep breath, and look him right in the eye, relying on my meek persona for what will hopefully be the last time.

“Do you mean that?” I ask, hopefully.

“More than I’ve ever meant anything in my life,” he assures me.

My lips curl upwards into a smirk, and I rip open my jacket, exposing the wire and camera that I’ve been wearing the whole time. “Put your hands behind your head and get on the ground then.”

Jack lets out an animalistic howl. “YOU BETRAYED ME!” he thunders.

I laugh. “I never trusted you to begin with.”

His eyes darken and he lunges for me, as I hear the door slide open behind me. I turn my head, and I never see the sharp object that Jack sends my way. 

I smile at my family, and then I feel something burrow into the skin of my arm. A burst of pain shoots through my entire body, and I fall to my knees.

I hear an indistinguishable noise, before I see Jack topple backwards. It’s the last thing I see before the world goes dark.


	40. Chapter 39

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> In the aftermath of the cliffhanger from last chapter the family waits for any news on BC...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or it’s characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to improve my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, Hannah and Christian Davis, Michael James Callahan and Alex Meyer, as well as any further OC’s I wish to introduce in the future.

I hate hospitals.

I hate how sterile they are, how helpless you feel when you’re in one, and most importantly, I hate how they stir up memories that I’ve worked very hard to suppress.

As the smell of disinfectant reaches my nose, I find myself transported to my extended stay here, over a decade ago. I clutch Jude’s hand for dear life, and he looks at me.

“Oh, love,” he says tenderly, cupping my cheek. “I didn’t realize you were having one of your flashbacks. Are you okay?”

“I will be,” I grit out, before I immediately swell with guilt. I’m such a selfish asshole. I’m making this all about me, when our son is in surgery.

“Are you okay, Jude?” I question, with some intensity.

His eyes widen slightly. “I’m hanging in there, Con,” he assures me after a moment. “I’m as okay as I can be given the circumstances.”

“I’m sorry,” I say. “I’m being so selfish. And all because I can’t get decade-old memories out of my mind.”

“Hey, look at me,” he says sharply. “Don’t you dare apologize to me for having a flashback. I know being here has always been difficult for you.”

“But our son is in surgery!” I reason. “If nothing else, I should’ve waited until we got some news. Do we have any news? Has anyone said anything?”

“He’s only been in there for an hour, Con,” he reminds me. “It could be a while. We don’t know how much damage that glass shard did.”

“It was a glass shard?” I question. “How on earth did your brother get a glass shard? And what happened to your brother? Answer that first, actually.”

“He’s gone, Con,” Jude says solemnly. “As for how he got a glass shard, I don’t know.”

“Did the twins see anything?” I ask, hoping against all hope that they didn’t. 

Jude shakes his head. “No, Con,” he says. “The twins didn’t see it, but they did hear it.”

“Where are they?” I ask, looking around.

“They’re sleeping in the chairs over there, babe,” he informs me. “It took me a while to get them to fall asleep, but they’ve been out for the better part of BC’s surgery so far.”

I merely nod in acknowledgement, and fix my gaze forward, never letting go of Jude’s hand. I look around at everyone who has assembled in the waiting room. The whole family is here, but no one makes a sound.

Given that our family gatherings are always loud, talkative affairs, the silence underscores just how serious this situation is. In the chair to my left, I see Stef with her head in her hands.

I reach over, and pull one of hands from its position. I squeeze it tightly in mine, and she looks up.

“I’m sorry,” she says quietly.

“No,” I tell her emphatically. “I’m sorry. You were just doing your job, the best way you knew how. I can’t blame you for that.”

“But BC is here because of me!” she says. 

“No, Stef,” I say. “BC is here because of one person—and that’s Jack, so please don’t blame yourself. I don’t blame you, and I’m sure Jude’s already told you that he doesn’t blame you.”

“He has,” she assures me. “But still, if not for the fact that it was my plan initially, then for the fact that Lena and I raised Jack.”

“You’ve also raised 5 amazing kids, and you’re the best foster parents I’ve ever seen. You’ve done such an amazing job, and you’ve helped so many in your respective careers. It’s inspiring.”

“Thank you, Connor,” Lena intones kindly. “You and Jude are amazing father’s yourselves.”

“Well, we learned from the best,” I insist, before turning my attention back to Jude.

“He’ll be okay, Jude,” I whisper. “If I know one thing, it’s that our son is a fighter. He’ll pull through.”

Jude just rests his head gently on my shoulder, and intertwines our fingers tightly in response.

As the seconds on the clock tick by slowly, all I can do is hope for the best.

*****  
It’s another two hours before we hear anything about BC, and I’ve just about lost my damn mind when the doctor appears in the doorway wearing the typical, and frustratingly blank expression that is the hallmark of most doctors I’ve had to see over the years.

He clears his throat, and the entire room shifts their attention to him. Jude and I scramble to our feet, and move towards him quickly.

“Don’t bullshit us, doc,” I warn him. “How is he?”

You can feel the nervous energy in the room as we all wait for him to break the news. 

Slowly, he smiles. “Your son is going to be just fine!” he announces, loud enough for it to echo throughout the room so that everyone can hear.

The mood changes instantaneously from one of nervousness to one of pure elation. I pull Jude into my body, pressing a kiss to his temple. Behind me, I hear Stef sobbing happily.

“However!” the doctor calls out, causing the celebration to stop in its tracks. 

“I said no bullshit, doc!” I remind him.

“There’s a difference between bullshit and waiting to finish my sentence, Mr. Adams-Foster-Stevens,” he chides me.

I nod, grudgingly accepting the point.

“He’s going to be fine,” the doctor reiterates. “He made it through surgery, and his overall prognosis is very good. That said, when he was pierced with the jagged glass shard, it entered his body and embedded itself near his right shoulder. The shock and the pain are what caused him to pass out, but while removing the shard, I did observe some nerve damage. Whether it’s temporary or permanent, we won’t know until he wakes up, but other than that, he’ll be just fine.”

“If the nerve damage is permanent, what would that mean for him?” Jude asks.

“At best, he’ll be able to achieve some degree of functionality as a result of physical therapy. At worst, he won’t be able to feel anything in his right arm, and he won’t be able to use his right hand for anything. Is your son right-handed?”

Jude and I shake our heads. “He’s left-handed,” Jude says quietly.

The doctor nods. “That’s good, then. Would you like to see him? He’s in recovery and he should be waking up soon.”

Jude just nods, clinging to my arm. I offer my hand to the doctor for a shake.

“Thank you,” I say.

He meets me halfway and shakes my hand firmly. “It’s my pleasure,” he tells me. “When you’re ready, Nurse Claire will bring you to your son.”

The doctor swiftly departs, and after some hugs from the family, we wake Hannah and Christian and tell them the good news, before the four of us follow the nurse down the maze of hallways to the recovery wing.

*****  
Knowing my son was going to be (for all intents and purposes) okay took a big weight off my shoulders. But it wasn’t until he opened his eyes after the anesthetic wore off, that I truly began to breathe again.

“Hey Dads,” he croaks, groggily.

“Hey, buddy!” we chorus happily. “We’re so glad you’re all right.”

“Believe me,” he laughs. “So am I.”

“How are you feeling?” Jude asks.

“Well, I don’t feel anything in my right arm at the moment, and I’m a bit sore and tired otherwise, but I can’t complain.”

“The doctor said he saw some nerve damage when he was removing the glass shard. He doesn’t know if it’s permanent. He said we had to wait for you to wake up before we would know anything.”

“Is that what he threw at me?” BC questions. “A glass shard?”

Jude and I nod.

“What happened to him?” BC asks. “I remember seeing the team come in, I felt the shard pierce me, and I fell, but before everything went black, I saw him topple over.”

“He’s gone, BC,” Jude informs him.

BC raises his eyebrows. “Gone as in he escaped or gone as in…” he looks towards his siblings, trailing off.

“The second one,” Jude confirms.

“Good,” he says. “Then nerve damage or not, it was worth it. I have to admit, the guy had good aim.”

Jude and I just nod, amazed at how he’s keeping his humor despite the situation. BC looks towards his siblings and Hannah takes that as her opportunity to launch herself at him.

“You promised you’d be back for dinner!” she admonishes immediately.

“I’m sorry, sweetheart,” BC soothes her. “But I’m here now, and when I wake up a little bit, and the doctor comes and sees me, I can get out of this bed and the five of us can go down to the cafeteria for dinner. How’s that sound?”

She mulls it over carefully, before nodding. “Pinky promise?” she asks.

He hooks his finger through hers. “Pinky promise!” he tells her.

And so, that’s how the five of us end up having a late night dinner in the cafeteria of Sacred Cross Hospital. To BC’s credit, he smiles throughout the meal, regardless of any pain he may feel. Hannah clings to him tightly as she sits on his lap, and he even offers her his dessert.

As I smile at my family and pick at a fairly bland excuse for a muffin, I’m able for the first time to tolerate the sterile environment, which is normally suffocating. For the first time, I feel happy in a hospital, rather than helpless. For the first time, I’m able to forget all of the unpleasant memories I have in this place.

“You okay, babe?” Jude asks me.

I intertwine my fingers with his, and nod.

“I’m fine, babe,” I tell him. “In fact, I’ve never been better.”


	41. Chapter 40

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Family Christmas, An Adoption, A Wedding, A Confession...

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series, or it’s characters. I merely respect the series and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to improve my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s: Braden Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, Hannah and Christian Davis, Michael James Callahan and Alex Meyer, as well as any further OC’s I wish to introduce in the future.

It’s been about 6 months since the final ordeal with Jack that ended up costing him his life, and sent me to the hospital. Snow has now descended upon San Diego, covering the streets in pristine white powder. It’s the first sign of the upcoming holiday season.

As I sit in the warmth of the coffee shop with Zane, sipping a mug of hot chocolate and watching the snow as it continues to fall, I feel content.

Until a shot of pain rockets up my right arm, nerves tingling painfully. My face twists into a grimace as I set the mug down shakily on the table.

“You okay?” Zane questions, looking concerned as he reaches for my good hand across the table.

These episodes have become semi-frequent over the past six months after I was formally diagnosed with permanent nerve damage in my right arm. I’m very lucky that I’m left-handed, or it could’ve been much worse, but that still doesn’t make these episodes pleasant.

“I’m fine,” I grit out through clenched teeth as the pain sears up to my shoulder. “I’ll be fine. You know that, Z.”

“I know,” he nods, as he intertwines our fingers. “That doesn’t mean I enjoy seeing my boyfriend in pain.”

That’s another new development that Marina is quite smug about. She enjoys ribbing the both of us, but all that aside, she’s been amazingly supportive. I definitely lucked out in the best friend department.

“I know,” I soothe him. “The physical therapy is helping but the doctor said I’ll always have to deal with flare ups.”

“What can I do to help?” Zane asks.

“Just be here,” I inform him. “That’s all I can ask of you.”

“You know I’d take the pain for you if I could, right?” he says, eyes almost feral in their intensity.

“I know,” I whisper, cupping his cheek. “Thank you, Z.”

He brings the back of my hand to his lips, kissing it sweetly. “Always."

When the pain subsides, I gingerly pick the mug back up and sip the rapidly cooling liquid.

“So, Theo and Ryan are getting married soon,” I say, in an effort to shift the topic of conversation. 

“Is that so?” Zane questions, quirking an eyebrow. “I suppose you’re asking me to come with you?”

“Of course!” I exclaim. “Who else would I ask?”

“Well,” he says, taking my hand again. “Since you asked so nicely, how could I ever say no? You sure you don’t want to ask Marina, though? I’m not exactly versed in wedding etiquette.”

“I’m sure,” I tell him. “I’m a groomsman in the wedding party, so I’ll need someone to escort me down the aisle, after all. Other than that, you have no wedding-related responsibilities, I promise.”

“Alright,” he grins. “So, when’s the date?”

*****  
A few weeks later, the holiday season is in full swing and I’m helping the twins decorate the tree. They’re particularly excited because this is the first Christmas they’ve ever celebrated; so all the traditions are new for the both of them.

The first time they saw Santa Claus in the mall, Hannah dragged all of us into line to get a family picture with him. She’s embraced the more festive elements of the holiday with no hesitation.

Christian meanwhile, has found joy in the simpler aspects. Seeing his eyes go wide as he sipped hot chocolate for the first time was amazing. He also has an affinity for candy canes, and has embraced the selfless spirit of Christmas easily. His Christmas list was for Hannah to get “whatever she wanted, because I have all I need.”

What neither of them know, however, is that my Dads aren’t even putting the best gift underneath the tree. It’s a life-changing gift, and one that I know first-hand, is priceless.

They were so nervous when they pulled me aside one day…

*Flashback* 

I’m playing video games with Zane, when a knock on my bedroom door announces a new presence.

“Come in! It’s not locked!” I call out, before mashing the buttons on my controller to prevent Zane from getting the upper hand.

It’s my Dads, and more than anything, they look resigned. “BC, how many times have we told you to keep the doors open?”

“Too many,” I retort.

“Are you ever going to listen?” they question.

“Hey, I listen most of the time!” I exclaim. “We just didn’t want to disturb anyone.”

“Alright,” they sigh. “But the door stays open and the volume goes down until Zane goes home, okay?”

“Fine!” I say. “Did you need something?”

“Yes, actually,” they tell me. “Can we speak to you privately, just for a minute?”

“Sure,” I agree, pausing the game as Zane dutifully hastens from the room.

“What’s up?” I ask, once they’ve shut the door.

“Well,” they begin. “We were thinking of doing something for Hannah and Christian, for Christmas.”

“Okay… well why would you have to tell me that?” I question. “And what’s with the nervous looks? You’re making me anxious.”

“Well, we needed to tell you because what we’re planning will affect you, at least somewhat. And the nervous looks are because neither of us know how to bring it up.”

“Just spit it out, already!” I advise. “What could possibly be so…”

“We want to ask Hannah and Christian if we can adopt them,” they interject before I can finish. “And we need to know how you feel about that.”

I look between the two of them, as they nervously await my answer. Instead of giving them a verbal response, I tilt my head back and laugh.

“Is that all?” I question. “You two are so dramatic, I thought something was seriously wrong for a second.”

“So, you’re okay with it?” they ask.

“Do you know how much I love both of them?” I retort. “You seriously have to ASK if you can adopt them?”

“Well, it’s traditional,” they start.

“If you haven’t noticed Dads,” I laugh. “Nothing about our family is traditional in any way. And I’m damn proud of that fact. Of course you can adopt the twins.”

They move as one and wrap me in a hug.

“We love you, buddy,” they say.

“I love you, too,” I say immediately. “Thank you for everything you’ve done for me.”

“There’s nothing to thank us for,” they assure me before they leave the room.

Zane comes back in quickly and sits down. “Everything okay, BC?”

“Everything’s perfect, Z,” I assure him, intertwining our fingers. “In fact, things probably couldn’t get any better.”

“Good news, then?” he questions.

“The best news,” I confirm. “But I think Hannah and Christian will be much more excited than I am.”

*End Flashback*

I smile to myself as I watch the two of them carefully adorn the tree with a plethora of ornaments. 

This will be the first of many family Christmases for them, and I know the novelty may eventually wear off, but for now, I can only help them to have the best Christmas experience possible. And if I end up taking a full camera’s worth of pictures… well, that’s just a bonus.

I can’t wait to see their faces when Dads hand them the papers.

*****  
The remaining time before Christmas goes by quickly. Dads and I do everything possible to give Hannah and Christian the best, most authentic first Christmas experience. I also spend time with Marina and Zane, and finish some last minute shopping and gift-wrapping.

I’ve gotten a few hours of sleep when I immediately feel two sets of weight on my chest.

“BC, WAKE UP!” the voices greet me exuberantly. “IT’S CHRISTMAS!”

I open my eyes to the sight of my siblings sitting impatiently on my body. I rub away the fatigue.

“Good morning!” I greet them, as happily as I can while still half-asleep.

“Good morning!” they return. “Let’s go! Breakfast is ready, and then… PRESENTS!”

“I’ll be right down, you two,” I assure them. “Why don’t you go ahead?”

They do as instructed. 

I sit up and stretch, before looking at my alarm clock. It’s 5:30 in the morning. I’m going to be so tired later. But it’s worth it.

As I walk into the kitchen, I hear the two of them chatting excitedly. A plate and a coffee cup are placed in front of me, and I hungrily devour the contents of both. The caffeine brings me out of my fatigued mindset, and it isn’t long before I’m sitting at the foot of the Christmas tree, exchanging gifts with my family.

When every gift has seeming been opened, I see my Dads get up. They hand me the camera, and walk into the kitchen, coming back with one last wrapped gift, which they give to Christian and Hannah.

Both of them look tentatively at me, and I nod, encouraging them to open the gift.

It’s all the motivation they need to promptly tear the wrapping paper away, and when they first see the big stack of papers, they’re confused.

As my Dads begin talking, I see recognition dawn on their respective faces, and they nod emphatically, launching themselves at Dads and hugging them for all it’s worth.

I dutifully continue to take pictures, and when I’m satisfied that I have enough; I move to join my family in the group hug.

Later, the entire family will converge on our house for the annual Adams-Foster-Stevens holiday get-together, but for right now, I have only three thoughts:

I think of how amazing it is that our family is now complete. I think of how I’ll treasure the Polaroid that I took forever. And last but not least, I think back to my own adoption and pray that theirs will be far less eventful than mine.

*****  
A few months later, I stand in a courtroom with the rest of my family, as Hannah and Christian Davis, become Hannah and Christian Adams-Foster-Stevens. For the first time in our family’s recent history with the family court, everything goes smoothly. 

I’ll never forget the first time they embraced me as their official brother. Not for as long as I live.

As we leave the courtroom, Theo exchanges a look with Ryan and then boisterously exclaims, “Fuck it! Let’s get married!” which causes the entire family to stop in its tracks.

Theo looks bashful, but assured as he reaches for Ryan, who has gone completely still. 

“I don’t want to wait one more second to call you my husband,” Theo tells him. “So, what do you say? You want to marry me, right now?”

Ryan looks stunned, and I see a tear fall down his face. He wipes it away, before he says quietly.

“Yes. A thousand times yes.”

Aunt Mariana looks stunned at the developments. The wedding was supposed to be next month, and she had done about 95 percent of the planning, already.

But they already have their marriage license, and once their minds are made up, they’re unwavering. So that is how we find ourselves in yet another courtroom, for yet another joyous, yet unexpected, occasion.

As I watch them exchange rings and vows with each other, I’m almost moved to tears. I cling tightly and happily to Zane as the judge announces them as husbands for the first time.

As we leave the courtroom to return home for an extremely impromptu wedding reception, Zane pulls me aside.

I look back to my family and see my Dads nod encouragingly. They look wistfully nostalgic, which I’ll have to press them on later. But for now, I focus on my boyfriend.

“What’s wrong, babe?” I question.

“I just need to tell you something,” he says nervously. “And I need you to promise that you’ll let me finish before you say anything in response. Okay?”

“Okay,” I promise easily.

He takes a deep breath and starts. “I’ve known every day since we became boyfriends that there would be a time that I would have to do this. I put it off as long as I could, but I can’t any longer. I just watched two people fully and unconditionally commit to each other in the most meaningful way possible, and I know we’re young, and that you deserve so much better, but I want that, eventually.”

“What are you saying, Zane?” I ask, well aware that he’s never been quite this vulnerable, even with me.

“I’m saying that I love you,” he says genuinely. “I’m not expecting you to say it back. Who would want a guarded, selfish, moody, broken, unlovable guy for a boyfriend, anyway? But I know what I feel, and maybe it’s way too soon, and maybe I’m screwing everything up, but I couldn’t keep it from you anymore.”

I cover my mouth with my hand as tears cut crystalline streaks down my face. Zane looks down.

“I ruined everything, didn’t I?” he asks.

I shake my head and move to take him into a strong hug. “I love you, too,” I tell him. “I fought it like hell at first, but I’m done fighting it now. I love you, Zane Johnson.”

I pull away and take his face in my hands, forcing him to look at me, before I continue.   
“Don’t you ever call yourself broken or unlovable again, okay?” I tell him. “You’re not broken or unlovable. And if you are, then I am too. But I’ll stand by your side. That is, if you’ll do the same for me.”

“Of course,” he says, with zero hesitation.

“Then I’m afraid you’re stuck with me,” I laugh. “Because I’m not going anywhere unless you ask me to. And even then, I’ll fight like hell to stay.”

He laughs tearfully, and nods. “Okay.”

I twine our fingers together, as we walk back to my family, and out of the courthouse.

As we settle in the car and he looks out the window, I find myself looking at him.

‘If only you saw yourself the way I see you,’ I think to myself. ‘You’d see that you’re the farthest thing from broken. You’re the farthest thing from unlovable. But I’ll stand by your side until you believe that. I don’t care how long it takes, or how often I have to remind you of that. I’ll do it every day if you need me to, but eventually, I’ll love you back to life.’ 

As we pull away from the courthouse, that is the vow I make to myself, and to him. And it’s a vow that I intend to keep.


	42. Epilogue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> 25 Years Later... It's Time to Say Goodbye

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this is it: The Epilogue! Thank you to everyone here on AO3 that has given this story a chance. I hope you enjoy this final chapter.
> 
> Disclaimer: Peter Paige and Bradley Bredeweg created The Fosters. I claim no ownership of the series or it’s characters. I merely respect the series, and wish to pay tribute to it, while continuing to improve my writing skills. The only characters I claim any ownership of are my OC’s: Braden (BC) Adams-Foster-Stevens, Marina Reyes, Jan Stevens, Dean Williams, Mark Wells, Bob Olsen, Mary Stevens, Theo Stevens, Ryan Clark, Zane Johnson, Hannah and Christian Adams-Foster-Stevens, Michael James Callahan and Alex Meyer, as well as any further OC’s that appear in this Epilogue.

Life is a series of moments. Every action and interaction builds on the last. Some moments are fleeting, and some linger far longer than you ever expect them to.

In the 52 years of my life, I’ve experienced more moments than many with my upbringing are ever expected to have.

I lost my mother. To some extent, I lost my father as well. I became a ward of the state, and was shuffled around a broken system with very little regard for my mental and physical well-being. I suffered unspeakable abuse. And, for a brief time, I lost the one person who tried to protect me from it all.

These are the bad moments.

I made my first real friend. I found my forever family. My first real friend became my boyfriend, then my fiancé, and then my husband. I became a top social worker. My husband and I adopted a wonderful family and watched them all grown into intelligent, well-rounded individuals with fulfilling careers and families of their own.

These are the good moments.

Each moment in our lives, both the fleeting and the lingering, has purpose. The good moments and the bad moments build upon each other. In the process, they help to shape us as people. 

For me, they helped in my transformation from a shy, scared foster kid into a confident, successful man. Every peak and valley has lead me to right here, right now, in this moment.

And I’d go through it all again, if I had to. As long as the end result would be this, there’s nothing I wouldn’t endure.

My eyes flit across the expansive table set out in the dining room of our home, taking the chaos and the noise of another Adams-Foster-Stevens family dinner. Very few sights come close to being as unique as seeing my entire family around one dinner table, even after all these years.

To my left sit my Moms. They both retired long ago, and are now getting on in years, but they’re as in love as ever. They’re also fiercely independent, accepting help from the rest of us only if they absolutely need it. 

Let it be said that even though she retired from the police force long ago and now needs a cane to get around, Stefanie Marie Adams-Foster can still be one of the most stubborn and intimidating presences a person can come across. But she’s also kind, loving and willing to do anything for her family. 

As for Mama, I’ve still never learned how to keep a secret from her. She still has the warm, comforting, open nature that just makes it impossible to lie to her. She’s my #2 confidant (after Connor, of course!) and I doubt that will change as long as she’s alive. She left education to run for Congress and won, winning re-election several times and helping to keep education in the forefront of the government.

I still thank them, after all these years, for everything they’ve ever done for me since coming into my life. And while I’ll always have my biological mother’s memory in my heart, they’ve been the best Moms, the best parents that a man could ever ask for.

Next to them, my eyes find Callie and AJ and their kids. Callie spent so much of her life looking after me. I know for a fact that I would not have survived the system had she not been there to protect me. She selflessly put my needs in front of her own. And after everything that happened with Brandon, all those years ago, I’m glad she’s finally found someone who puts her first without any hesitation. 

AJ retired long ago from his job as a contractor, and as much as I still like to joke with him about how my sister still has him wrapped around her finger after all these years, he’s one of the most selfless people I’ve ever met and he would do anything for his family. I couldn’t have asked for better than that for Callie.

Speaking of Callie, she’s still as dedicated to her work as ever. AJ and I think she’ll work for as long as she possibly can. And knowing her as I do, she’ll fight like hell to keep working even after she physically can’t. She’s just that invested in what she does, and I can’t blame her one bit for that. She’s an amazing mother, just as much as she is an amazing advocate. She also found a way to juggle her family and her advocacy with law school. She focused on family law and started her career as a lawyer before becoming one of California’s longest serving and most well respected family court judges.

Next to Callie are BC and Zane, and their family. Admittedly, Connor and I didn’t know if their relationship would be able to last, but they bought each other engagement rings as a high school graduation present, and the rest is history. I remember that Zane was so nervous when he asked us for our permission but we gave it easily. BC’s happiness meant, and still does mean, the world to us and from the way he lit up whenever Zane walked into a room, or was mentioned in a conversation, it was obvious that he was happy and that Zane was the one who made him that way.

BC took after Mama and became a teacher, while supporting Zane, who took after Mom, as he worked his way up the ranks of the police force to become Captain. Marina is still his best friend, and when he expressed to her that he and Zane wanted to start a family, she selflessly offered to be their surrogate, not only once, but twice. They’ve also fostered and adopted, on their way to building their family. Connor and I could not be more proud of the man he has become.

Like I do with my Moms, he still thanks Connor and I to this day. 

Next to BC and Zane is Marina. She’s still like a daughter to us after all of these years and is as much a part of our family as anyone. She never married, as she hates the idea of being tied down, but she’s very devoted to her family and after studying Hospitality and Tourism in college, she became an equal partner in Mariana’s event-planning business and helped to expand the business internationally.

Next to Marina are Brandon and his wife, Eliza. The entire family always believed that Brandon would marry Courtney, but after the relationship ended, Brandon focused on his career and met Eliza in the process. They shocked us with the announcement of their engagement though, and after a destination wedding that some weren’t sure would make it down the aisle, they’ve been completely devoted to each other and in between work commitments for each of them, they’ve spent their married life traveling the world. Connor and I have kept a collection of all the postcards they’ve sent us over the years.

Next to Brandon and Eliza are Jesus and Emma. After letting each other go on the evening of Brandon and Eliza’s wedding, Emma accepted the tech job in India and Jesus kept busy by expanding his building business. He and Emma reconnected when Emma returned to California to conquer Silicon Valley and they ran into each other at a local coffee shop. The two became friends again, and eventually resumed their relationship after agreeing to take things slow. Jesus proposed to Emma several different times before they followed in Theo and Ryan’s footsteps and married in a simple, family-only ceremony at the courthouse, presided over specially by Callie.

Sitting next to Jesus and Emma is Mariana. After parting with Mat for good at Brandon and Eliza’s wedding, she dedicated herself entirely to her career and has only indulged in casual dates. Her business grew at a rapid rate, and she became one of America’s most sought after event planners. As I mentioned earlier, she eventually partnered with Marina and the two of them took the business international.

Next to Mariana are Hannah and her husband, who had to overcome two overprotective big brothers in his quest to win Hannah’s heart. BC and Christian practically took it upon themselves to judge his suitability for Hannah so Connor and I wouldn’t have to, much to Hannah’s chagrin. Thanks, in part, to Marina’s influence, Hannah double-majored in fashion design and journalism. She started out as a fashion blogger before eventually starting her own fashion line. She and her husband have plans for a family in the future and are in the process of receiving their foster licenses. 

Next to Hannah and her husband is Christian, who has told us that he’s in between relationships. As a result of spending a lot of time at the ballpark with Connor, Christian developed a love of baseball, much to Connor’s delight. He pursued the sport with everything he had, and we were so proud when he got a full athletic scholarship after high school. He played all four years of college and majored in Sports Management. Although he worked hard enough to be drafted into the MLB, he never made it to the Majors, after a series of arm issues that dated back to his college days ended up derailing his career. Putting his degree to good use however, he is now a player agent.

Sitting next to Christian are Theo and Ryan and their kids. After their impromptu wedding at the courthouse, the two of them finished college. Ryan majored in Accounting, and Theo went on to Medical School and obtained his PHD. Having always prided himself on being a jack-of-all-trades, he specialized in General Surgery and he and Ryan eventually adopted a family. 

Last, but certainly not least, my eyes find the one person that they immediately search for in any room: Connor.

He still works as the GM of his baseball team, but he’s recently started to talk about retiring. I’ve said and reiterated several times that he has my full support in whatever he decides to do, just as I know I have his support in everything that I do.

He’s accomplished so much. He’s taken a team from the bottom of the league all the way to the top, with several World Series trophies to show for it. He’s also drafted well and put San Diego in a position to continue to be a competitive team long after he leaves.

He’s a classic case of someone who is at the pinnacle of his profession. And to think, I had to threaten him with sleeping on the couch in order to get him to go to his interview.

I’m so proud of him.

I’m so proud of us.

I’m so proud of all that we have overcome, and of the life that we’ve been able to build together.

I can’t wait to start the next chapter of our lives together. 

I don’t know what the future holds for us, or for our family, but as Connor smiles at me and quietly whispers an “I love you” against my temple, I know with absolutely certainty that there is no one else I’d rather have standing by my side.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thanks again to everyone for reading! I have plenty more stories to come, so stay tuned!
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you all so much for taking the time to read this story. I'm hoping to post one chapter a day here, until this story is caught up with where it is on Fan Fiction.net, and then I will post the new chapters of this story that I've been working on for the last few months.
> 
> Feel free to tell me what you thought of my work in a comment, and if you like this story, make sure to give it some kudos and add this story to your bookmarks or favourites. Please keep in mind that this (and all my other works) are completely un-betad. I check them thoroughly before posting, but I'm only human so I apologize for any typos. 
> 
> Also, this was the first time I had ever posted on AO3 so if the formatting is off, please let me know and I'll fix it.
> 
> Until next time,  
> WritingIsLoveAndLife


End file.
